


AMBITION ( Season 3 )

by esther0103, quincywillows



Series: pour myself a cup of ambition [6]
Category: AMBITION (Series), Girl Meets World
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, But like if you're on S3 you know what this is all about. You know what's up, Dancing and Singing, Ensemble Cast, Episode Style, F/M, Gen, IT'S AMBITION SEASON 3 BAYBEE, M/M, Multi, Musical References, Performing Arts, Slow Burn, We MADE IT! HOW ARE WE FEELINGGGGGG, and once again thank you and shoutout to the tag wranglers for dealing with me!, there are way more relationships n friendships and chars than just tagged above, there's just not enough room in the world
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:55:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 240,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27154162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/esther0103/pseuds/esther0103, https://archiveofourown.org/users/quincywillows/pseuds/quincywillows
Summary: Senior year promises to be an experience like no other at Adams Academy for the Arts. For the A class, it’s a hard-earned final victory lap. There’s excitement, over carnivals and elections and epic showdowns. There’s more opportunities than ever. And at last there’s unity, the seniors finally sharing camaraderie just in time for their last year in the walls of AAA.But it’s not without challenges. Old wounds are still healing, none more prominent than the gap left by a conflicted transfer. Many are recovering from past choices, while others struggle to accept the impending change of the future. Questions permeate everything: How do you define yourself? Are those definitions outdated, can they be something else -- something more? Is it okay to feel confident in who you are, in your purpose -- or is it naive and begging to be shattered? What does it take to define that sense of self, before everything inevitably shifts? What sacrifices do you have to make to let other people in, to commit… knowing that it might be futile when the future comes?Without a doubt, the A class’ final run is guaranteed to be worth watching. As the Adams curtain rises one last time...
Relationships: A Class (AMBITION), Asher Garcia (AMBITION)/Dylan Orlando (AMBITION), Asher Garcia/Dylan Orlando, Farkle Minkus (AMBITION)/Isadora De La Cruz, Farkle Minkus/Isadora Smackle, Isaiah "Zay" Babineaux/Charlie Gardner, Jack Hunter (AMBITION)/Eric Matthews (AMBITION), Jack Hunter/Eric Matthews (Boy Meets World), Lucas Friar/Riley Matthews, Riley Matthews (AMBITION)/Lucas James Friar, Techie Crew (AMBITION), Zay Babineaux (AMBITION)/Charlie Gardner (AMBITION)
Series: pour myself a cup of ambition [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1377655
Comments: 18
Kudos: 21





	1. Author's Note -- Welcome Back to AAA!

Greetings, dear readers!

Okay, but how crazy is it that it’s season 3. _Season 3._ When Esther and I first started working on _AMBITION_ in 2019, oh we sure thought about the third season, but did we actually believe we would make it that far? Debatable. We’re both big idea people, endless story machines, but we also have habits of fizzling out quick. Changing tracks, jumping onto new projects, finding other story worlds to play around in for a while. So yes, we loved AAA from the get-go, but there was no guarantee it was going to last. We went into it trying our best, having fun with it, and if we made it that far, well, we’d cross that bridge when we got there.

Now, we’re here. Three seasons, 42 episodes, sizable bonus content, and over 2000 combined reads on both seasons and counting. We have an actual source blog for a fake show, that people actually follow, and we’ve had _so_ much fun interacting with y’all and goofing off there. But more than anything, we’ve had the chance to share this world with you, the awesome readers who treat this story as so much more than just a loosely-inspired-fic-turned-wannabe-TV-show. You’ve rolled with our storytelling punches, endured the lowest lows of the second season with us, and fallen in love with these characters and relationships enough to keep coming back for more. We would’ve written it for ourselves regardless, but it’s that much more fun, more _alive_ , because you all put your hearts into consuming it just as much as we put into writing it.

With that in mind, we’re _very_ excited to bring you _AMBITION_ Season 3. It feels _bigger_ in so many ways, as every season seems to, but this time around even more so. We’re expanding the world, introducing new settings to explore beyond the walls of AAA. We’re populating our cast with even more new and interesting supporting characters, as well as giving more time and attention to the ones who have been with us since the start. And the music is as wide-ranging as ever, from Broadway to the 70s to pop greats to a song from the 1700s (yes, really!). And, of course, we’re digging into our main ensemble like never before, continuing to take them on their personal journeys that hopefully will lead them right to the places they’re meant to be.

So if you’re still riding this train with us, buckle up, because we’re in for a wild ride. Not as bumpy as last season, though not without its moments. We’ll be taking off every **Friday @ 5PM EST,** and as always, you can find any relevant updates (as well as reactions, edits, previews and more) at **[ambitionsource](http://ambitionsource.tumblr.com/). ** Don’t forget to [follow the playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/17qHHA7v0GQbxmmKZa10Hv?si=zFPZYaY4QNCO-J74TNe4eQ), and let’s groove our way right into _AMBITION_ Season 3.

Welcome back to Adams!

Maggie ♥


	2. Previously On AMBITION

**Previously on** **_AMBITION:_ **

The junior A class at Adams Academy of the Arts was in shambles after the final blow of _AAA Confessions,_ using Farkle’s emotional diva meltdown as a self-destruct button. And the hottest summer in Manhattan in decades did nothing to cool the tension, everything left to simmer until classes resumed at AAA.

**Riley Matthews** found herself an outsider again, exiled from the techie crew and seemingly out of touch with her other friends. This is partially because **Zay Babineaux** , her closest friend since her first day at Adams, was busy focused on other things -- namely, a deeply romantic but painfully secret relationship with **Charlie Gardner** , who was only just beginning to explore the possibilities of who he actually is versus the person he’s been told he should be. **Farkle Minkus** was even more adrift, officially the school villain and social pariah up until his mere existence basically became irrelevant. And he sorely missed the companionship of the classmates he let down, none more so than **Maya Hart** , who did an excellent job of concealing her hurt even when disaster struck, like the unfortunate relocation of her mother. Even though she made an unlikely new best friend in **Isadora De La Cruz,** the techie-turned-performer had problems of her own -- torn between two identities and balancing the increasingly constant presence of her starlet mother, **Valerie De La Cruz,** reentering her life for good.

To be fair, what she was leaving behind for the allure of the stage wasn’t much to brag about. The techies were in tense straits after the events of the previous year, essentially trying to survive with their head cut off as their de facto leader, **Lucas James Friar** , descended further and further into a self-destructive spiral. Even **Asher Garcia** and **Dylan Orlando** couldn’t keep him from slipping off into the deep end, and trying to save him resulted in serious consequences. And **Jack Hunter** and **Eric Matthews** stretched themselves to the end of their ropes, frantically trying to keep the frenzied A class afloat while navigating their own personal dilemmas -- including what they felt about one another.

The junior A class came into the school year a bubbling mess of toxic chemicals, and like any bad chemical reaction, eventually it had to explode. Fully isolated and all out of hope, Farkle succumbed to his poor mental health and attempted suicide, a catalyst that set off a chain reaction of meltdowns for the rest of his classmates. Though Charlie and Zay took their relationship further than ever before, the complicated circumstances surrounding it and lack of communication threatened to fracture their romance for good. Riley pushed her limits and ended up in a sticky situation, while Isadora found herself ousted from her foster home and on the search for somewhere to settle. A dangerous decision by Lucas and Dylan landed both of them in the back of a cop car, which finally pushed Asher and Jack to give Lucas the same damning declaration: “I’m done.”

But in spite of such a dark winter, spring arrived like always, allowing for the chance to begin again. Farkle survived and began the long, laborious process of recovery, letting go of some of his obsessive diva qualities to instead embrace authenticity and self-improvement (albeit with the usual amount of witty snark), and in the process earned back the trust of his diva best friend. Lucas turned over a new leaf so he could move on, realizing how much the way of the world now meant to him when it was threatened by **Missy Bradford** attempting to take his spot at AAA. The battle resulted in a full school-wide protest led by Riley, culminating in the true beginning of a romance between her and Lucas. And Charlie made the toughest decision of all, sacrificing his spot at AAA so that Lucas could stay without Missy going after anyone else -- while also freeing Zay from the inescapable pull of the two of them, forcing Charlie to do some growing and self-exploration on his own as he repents for his selfishness at Haverford Prep.

And just when all seemed right in the world of De La Cruz, with plans to stay together in New York and form a real family dynamic, Valerie’s sudden death due to her unstable drug addiction sent Isadora into the unknown realm of insurmountable grief. It just goes to show that nothing in life is guaranteed, and if the universe is good at anything, it’s throwing you a curveball just when you’ve got everything figured out.

For senior year at Adams, that’s an inevitability. Our crop of seniors has come so far in the last three years, but they’ve certainly got so far to go. As the clock ticks down on their last high school summer...


	3. Episode Listing

_**AMBITION** _

**Season 3 Episode Listing**

* * *

**[ 3.01 ] “The Beginning of the Rest of Your Life” //** OUR LAST SUMMER – The Adams gang takes advantage of the final week of summer, while Charlie begins his senior year at Haverford Prep. Zay wraps up his run in  _ West Side Story _ . Dylan and Asher pay Isadora a visit, and Farkle gets help from an unlikely source.

**[ 3.02 ] “Almost There” //** HOW FAR THEY’LL GO – Senior year truly kicks off. The A class begins to ponder their futures beyond AAA, though few have it all figured out, and someone has no plan at all. Charlie adjusts to the high expectations of Haverford.

**[ 3.03 ] “Class on the Run” //** RUN, DIVA, RUN – The A class faces their greatest challenge yet... health and fitness. Charlie struggles to keep up with the crème de la crème. The Adams election heats up when an unexpected player considers joining the race.

**[ 3.04 ] “Party Favors” //** BLAME IT ON THE JUICE – Former Adams survivors return for homecoming and offer wisdom to the A class. Isadora gets a rich surprise. Chai attempts to salvage her popularity with a campaign event, but agents of chaos turn the conduct from diplomatic to disorderly.

**[ 3.05 ] “Battleground State” //** THE VOTES ARE IN – The A class fights to advance in the senior showdown semi-finals. Charlie bonds with his classmates as Haverford proves they’re fierce competition. Adams elects their next student body president, and someone gets a serious wake-up call.

**[ 3.06 ] “The Comfort Zone” //** THE THINGS YOU THOUGHT YOU’D NEVER DO – Harper challenges the A class to push their limits in an effort to accommodate a fallen talent. Maya faces her greatest fear, while Lucas and Riley reassess their relationship. Charlie contemplates his biggest move yet.

**[ 3.07 ] “Can You Dig It?” //** STAYIN’ ALIVE – After an unfortunate accident, the A class finds themselves working double time to fund their showdown performance. Charlie struggles to balance the past and the present, and Maya makes a desperate move. Farkle receives news that changes his life forever.

**[ 3.08 ] “Moment of Truth” //** SHOWDOWN – Adams and Haverford go head-to-head at the senior showdown finals. The A class scrambles when their polished routine is thrown into jeopardy, and Riley takes control. Charlie makes difficult decisions, culminating in a major confession.

**[ 3.09 ] “Nature of the Beast” //** Synopsis coming Spring 2021.

**[ 3.10 ] “The Odd Couples” //** Synopsis coming Spring 2021.

**[ 3.11 ] “Winds of Change” //** Synopsis coming Spring 2021.

**[ 3.12 ] “Dylan and Asher” //** Synopsis coming Spring 2021.

**[ 3.13 ] “Jolly Holiday, Part 1” //** Synopsis coming Spring 2021.

**[ 3.14 ] “Jolly Holiday, Part 2” //** Synopsis coming Spring 2021.

**[ 3.15 ] “Last Dance” //** Synopsis coming Spring 2021.

**[ 3.16 ] “Bring on Tomorrow” //** Synopsis coming Spring 2021.


	4. The Beginning of the Rest of Your Life [ 3.01 ]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> OUR LAST SUMMER – The Adams gang takes advantage of the final week of summer, while Charlie begins his senior year at Haverford Prep. Zay wraps up his run in West Side Story. Dylan and Asher pay Isadora a visit, and Farkle gets help from an unlikely source.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ( Follow along with the music on Spotify [here](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/17qHHA7v0GQbxmmKZa10Hv?si=-1x_9vv1RySKFUuJcEfY_g)! )

**INT. MATTHEWS APARTMENT - MASTER BEDROOM - DAY**

Riley’s newest accommodations are about the same as we last left them, two beds still arranged in the space. The reminder of why there’s two appears when MAYA HART reenters the space, fresh out of the shower and wrapped up in a plush baby pink towel. She’s starting her day right, bright and early, going through her usual glam routine even in the summer.

She pauses to look at Riley’s bed, unmade and empty. In fact, it looks like it hasn’t been touched since the previous morning. Next to it, the window is open, letting in the summer breeze.

Maya makes a face, tsking with a shake of her head. _Well, this can only end well._ Then she shrugs, spinning to her side of the room. She places her phone down on the vanity and scrolls to a playlist titled “Mama’s Favorites.” With the press of a button, music fills the room, and so does that energetic spirit of _AMBITION_.

* * *

**Song Cue ♫ ♪ “All Summer Long” as performed by Kid Rock || Performed by Maya Hart (feat. AAA Seniors)**

The rollicking old-fashioned rock tune injects a rhythm into the otherwise quiet morning, giving Maya something to groove to as she moves around getting ready. She sings along to the music, taking over the vocals for the most part.

She moves over to the wall where her future moodboard is hanging up, right above a year calendar. It’s August, though obviously the summer month is nearing its end. Maya scratches out the current day, Monday, leaving us to linger on the details scribbled onto the following Monday as she dances away. The 31st. Last day of August, and for them, the last day of summer.

Next to a bright red star sticker, a few simple words. **“Last First Day @ AAA.”**

**EXT. ORLANDO COMMUNITY CENTER - DAY**

The protective rolling door springs up as the Orlando community center opens for the day, DYLAN ORLANDO the one opening the place up that morning. He squints out at the sunshine, then grins, smile bright enough to rival the sun.

**INT. ORLANDO COMMUNITY CENTER - DAY**

Dylan continues setting up for the day as he slides around, earbuds in his ears and six-string strapped on his back. He’s grown an inch or so over the summer, and his hair is a little longer, though just as windswept and fluffy as usual. Subtle changes, really, but the kind of stuff you notice after a whole hiatus apart.

On the counter, his phone vibrates with a reminder: **“Open CC.”** Underneath that, we can see texts from Asher.

**INT. RILEY’S CAR - DAY**

Another phone vibrates on the floor in the backseat of Riley’s sedan. It’s resting against a scrunched up string bag, lighting up with a call from “Dad.” When it goes to voicemail, we see this is not the first call that’s been missed -- in fact, there’s been about _six_ since 8:30AM. Behind all those notifications, we can just make out a lock screen image of Riley, Isadora, and Lucas.

It’s no surprise who is missing all those calls. The last of the vibrations from the call rouse RILEY MATTHEWS, stretched on the backseat where she dozed off. She’s sharing the cramped space with LUCAS JAMES FRIAR, shirtless (there’s an AAA first for the history books) and seemingly unopposed to being half-used as a pillow.

He’s still sound asleep, no stranger to resting in weird places. As Riley wakes up, she takes a long moment to look at him, a dreamy, fond smile drifting across her face. She doesn’t even notice what’s off about the situation, perfectly happy to see him first thing in the morning… until her phone starts buzzing again.

Then, she remembers _real_ quick. Her eyes widen, glancing around and realizing where she is, who she’s with, and the fact that there’s sunlight streaming through the windows. Last she recalls, it was night. She shoots upright.

> **Riley, harshly:** _ Shit_!

She scrambles to grab her phone, repeating the curse. She nudges Lucas to get up, starting to gather her things together. The movement is what actually wakes him up, but his T-shirt getting tossed in his face is what informs him the situation must be urgent.

**INT. JACK’S APARTMENT - DAY**

JACK HUNTER is having a far less stressful morning, already up and ready to go. He’s dressed casually in a T-shirt and jeans, but he grabs his briefcase as he heads out the door.

**INT. JACK’S CAR - APARTMENT GARAGE - DAY**

It’s not until he makes it to his car that his morning takes a turn for the worse. Jack turns his key in the ignition and… nothing. He tries again, and gets nothing but a complaining growl of the engine.

> **Jack:** Oh, you’re kidding me…

He tries again, but no. His trusty old car has called it quits. Jack curses under his breath, grabbing his bag and clambering out of the car.

**EXT. NEW YORK STREETS - DAY**

Jack is jogging down the street towards the closest Subway station. He passes by an Off-Broadway theater venue as he goes, our attention shifting to the exterior of it. Outside the theater, a poster of their current production is proudly displayed. _West Side Story_.

**INT. WEST SIDE THEATER - AUDITORIUM - DAY**

Contrasting to the bright summer sunshine, the interior of the theater is softer lit, more inviting to the eyes. It’s a well-kept space, obviously a venue that takes itself seriously.

On the stage, performers are stretching and mingling before their cast warm-up, amongst them ZAY BABINEAUX. He’s the youngest by a long shot, but he seems to fit in seamlessly with the rest of them as if he’s a seasoned professional. He cracks jokes with some of his co-stars as he joins them by the orchestra pit, confident and warmly received.

He’s totally in his element. For a moment, it might be easy to forget he’s still a teenager. He shifts into work mode when the DIRECTOR joins them on stage and beckons them together for notes and vocal warm-ups.

She leads them in a quick grounding exercise, encouraging them all to take a deep breath. As they inhale…

**INT. MINKUS HOME - FARKLE’S BEDROOM - DAY**

FARKLE MINKUS is also taking a deep breath, though something about the moment seems… off. It isn’t until the screen starts tilting, flipping us right-side up, that it’s clear Farkle is upside down. He’s reclined on his bed, head hanging off the edge as he finishes a breathing meditation exercise guided by his phone.

The moment it ends, he pulls himself back upright. He’s dressed comfortably, but sharper than most of last year, finally approaching a happy medium between the extremes of his personality. His hair has grown back from its buzzcut, closer to the coiff it once was.

He climbs off the bed, heading to his window and drawing back the curtains. Sunlight floods the room, presenting a stark contrast to his state this time last year.

**INT. SVORSKI’S COFFEE - DAY**

ERIC MATTHEWS is also enjoying the sunshine, soaking it up with a content smile as he waits in line at the local coffee shop. When it’s his turn and he approaches the counter, the barista asks him if he wants “the usual.” He nods, gracing her with a smile and then moving to the area to wait for his order.

While there, he crafts a text on his phone. It’s to Isadora, checking in on her and giving her a list of small reminders for when she wakes up -- brush her teeth, change her clothes, find something to eat, even if it’s small. He also notes that he’ll be back before dinner.

Their message thread seems to be pretty one-sided. Isadora’s answers are sparse, and when she does they’re usually one word. But Eric doesn’t seem perturbed by it.

Once his order is ready and he goes to retrieve it, we see that his “usual” is _two_ coffees. That seems like an awful lot of caffeine to be drinking alone, Eric… he gives the crew at Svorski’s a cheerful wave goodbye, heading out.

**INT. MATTHEWS APARTMENT - MASTER BEDROOM - DAY**

Maya is further in her glam routine, still owning the song and dancing around the room as she goes. Make-up, hair, the works. She’s wearing a sheer off-white robe over her camisole and shorts, more for the aesthetic than any sort of cover-up -- Sharpay Evans and Cher Horowitz would be proud. The montage continues to cut to her intermittently through the remainder of the song.

**INT. GARDNER HOME - CHARLIE’S BEDROOM - DAY**

Unlike Eric and Jack, not everyone is dressed casually this Monday morning. Quick close shots show the careful process of getting an outfit together -- tightening a striped blue tie, adjusting cuffs, pulling on a deep navy blue blazer.

As we pan up, CHARLIE GARDNER finishes piecing together his Haverford uniform. He looks markedly different from when we last saw him, hair cut much shorter than it was at the end of junior year. He looks great in his uniform, sharp, clean-cut and well-groomed, but he doesn’t look confident in it. It’s more like the uniform is wearing him.

But he doesn’t have time to obsess over it. It’s his first day, and he wants to give himself plenty of time to get oriented. He grabs his bag off the bed with a change of clothes and a pair of dance sneakers. The rest of his dance duffle gets left behind, sitting forgotten by the wall with his guitar.

**INT. ORLANDO COMMUNITY CENTER - DAY**

Dylan, however, has no shortage of guitar. He takes the guitar solo in the latter half of the song, shredding on his six-string and bopping around the community center.

**INT. RILEY’S CAR - DAY**

Riley pulls up at the curb to let Lucas out in a rush -- back in his shirt -- questioning if he has everything and passing his phone to him when he almost leaves it on the center console. He’s fully out of the car when she shouts for him to come back one more time.

> **Riley:** Wait, wait, wait --

Lucas leans inside just long enough for Riley to stretch across the seat and give him a kiss. Then she sets him free, assuring him that she’ll catch up with him soon.

**EXT. NEW YORK STREETS - DAY**

Lucas, still a little dazed, backs onto the sidewalk as Riley’s car speeds away. He watches her go, then shakes his head, trying to pull himself back together. He turns and heads inside where she’s dropped him off -- the beloved **Chubbies** , his new workplace.

**INT. GARCIA HOME - ASHER’S BEDROOM - DAY**

Another calendar comes into focus, though this one is far more cluttered with notes and reminders than Maya’s. Someone leans in to cross an “X” over the current day, and when we pull back we see a familiar bulletin board populated with photos, flyers, and note cards.

Though there are many new photos from the summer, the most notable is the creased but unfolded photo of Dylan, Lucas, and Asher, back in its rightful place pinned up. Next to it, there’s a pamphlet for a university, the Rochester Institute of Technology.

ASHER GARCIA steps back from the board, shifting his focus to his agenda laying open on the desk. He’s sporting a cute, patterned short-sleeve button down, a summer spin on his usual attire. He gathers up a couple of notebooks and folders for the school year, way ahead of the game in preparing for the school year.

He drops one set into his messenger bag, then puts the others into the backpack slouched against the wall next to it. Based on the Spongebob patch and doodles all over it, it’s no guess who the extra bag belongs to.

**INT. ORLANDO COMMUNITY CENTER - DAY**

Dylan continues his groovy guitar playing as the song crescendos into the final chorus.

**EXT. AAA - DAY**

Jack has finally made it to the familiar stomping grounds of Adams Academy for the Arts, jogging up the steps without hesitation.

**INT. MATTHEWS APARTMENT - MASTER BEDROOM - DAY**

Maya similarly boogies around, now ready for the day.

**EXT. HAVERFORD PREP - DAY**

Charlie moves with more apprehension as he steps off the main street and onto Haverford’s campus, a spacious chunk of a block on the Upper East Side. The school boasts an open-air, modern architecture, a far cry from the classic structure of Adams. He has to move through the lawn and outdoor eating pavilions before he gets close to the building itself, other boys dressed in the sleek Haverford blue mingling around him.

Taking a deep breath, Charlie braves the plunge and approaches the tall glass doors, disappearing into the belly of the beast.

**INT. MATTHEWS APARTMENT - MASTER BEDROOM - DAY**

As the song winds down, Riley clambers up the fire escape and back in through her bedroom window. She’s way too late, though, a fuming and frantic CORY MATTHEWS waiting for her return with his arms crossed. Behind him, Maya watches the scene with amusement.

> **Cory:** Riley Erica Matthews!

Riley grimaces, halfway through the window. Busted.

> **Riley:** Oh, shi --

_**Cue title sequence.** _

* * *

Ladies and gentlemen, it’s with great joy that I finally say: welcome back to _AMBITION_.

**INT. HAVERFORD PREP - PRINCIPAL’S OFFICE - DAY**

Charlie is seated in a posh oak chair opposite the desk of AARON JACKSON, who is leisurely leafing through his transfer paperwork. Despite their names, there is little in common between Principal Jackson and Principal Hunter of AAA. Whereas Jack always had an edge of grit, Aaron has a dignified, refined air about him -- the shine of a man who has always known privilege. His office feels the same, darker and more studious in appearance, reflecting the nature of the school.

Still, he’s not without warmth. He seems good-spirited as he gives Charlie a light smile, peering at him over his paperwork. Charlie manages to return it, trying his best not to appear as nervous as he is.

> **Aaron:** Nice recommendations, good community service record.  _ Excellent _ grades… do you think you may have been valedictorian at Adams?

> **Charlie:** Oh, I don’t know. I had classmates a lot smarter than me in the A class.

Aaron hums, focusing back on the paperwork. Then he sets it on the desk, giving Charlie his full attention.

> **Aaron:** I hope you don’t mind my asking, Mister Gardner, but I’m curious. It’s not often that we get transfers so late in their high school career, especially not from Adams Academy. To be frank, you’d find that a fair handful of your peers here at Haverford had Adams as their first choice when they applied, but didn’t make the cut.

The question goes without saying. What is he doing there, jumping schools, when he likely had it made in the shade at AAA? Charlie clears his throat, offering his practiced charming smile.

> **Charlie:** I just thought that the change of pace might be good for me. Adams is great, of course, and I was sad to leave it. I’m going to miss… it will be an adjustment, for sure, but I’m sure I’ll find exactly the enrichment I need while at Haverford.

Well, hard to argue with that flattering assessment. Aaron doesn’t seem fully convinced, but he brushes it off easily. It’s not his business after all.

> **Aaron:** Well, we’re happy to have you with us regardless. With your impressive record, and your dance ability, I have no doubt you’ll fit well within the ranks of the Haverford senior class.

With that, Aaron gets down to business, shifting to discussing his schedule and how things work at the school. Once they’re done going through the necessary orientation points, Aaron will make sure he gets to performance lab, and his classmates will take it from there.

Charlie maintains his pleasant smile as he’s handed his welcome packet and schedule, but it falters as he starts flipping through it.

**INT. AAA - JACK’S OFFICE - DAY**

Back in the brighter principal’s office, Jack is flurrying about trying to get things in order after his uneven start that morning. Eric appears in his doorway with a cheery greeting, passing off that second coffee to Jack as soon as he notices him and returns his hello. Jack takes the beverage gratefully, commenting that Eric always knows exactly what he needs.

Eric clearly takes pride in the comment, coming further into the room. He comments on Jack’s frazzled state, and Jack explains that his car decided to stop working this morning. As tragic as that news is, Eric doesn’t seem surprised.

> **Eric:** Jack, you’ve been driving that dinosaur for like fifteen years, and it wasn’t new when you bought it. It was bound to crap out eventually.

> **Jack:** William is a fighter, Eric. He wouldn’t just give up on me like that.

Eric rolls his eyes, reminding Jack that he’s way more theatrical than he lets on. He points out that things get old, and they die. It’s the circle of life. Life has a funny way of letting you know when things don’t work as they are anymore, when it’s time to move on.

> **Eric:** I’m more surprised you walked all the way here.

> **Jack:** Subway was running late.

> **Eric:** Not my point. I would’ve given you a ride.

> **Jack:** You’re coming from the opposite direction.

> **Eric:** You know I don’t care about that. I would’ve picked you up.

From the tone of their banter, it’s clear that it wouldn’t be the first time Eric and Jack have carpooled this summer. Jack hesitates, meeting his gaze, before shrugging it off and directing them back to the task at hand. They’ve got a big week ahead, as they have to assess Adams for any damage and make sure everything is in sterling shape before the school year kicks off again.

This year, it matters more than ever. As Jack states, they’ll be having a new coworker join them this year from the school board as an administrative advisor, meant to observe how things are running after the turbulence of the Lucas and Bradford situation last year. So now, they really can’t afford to slip up.

**INT. CHUBBIES - DAY**

Speaking of slip-ups, Riley reiterates the morning madness to Farkle and a tickled Maya, sitting in a booth at Chubbies. The divas are across from her while Lucas is seated next to her, arm casually draped around her shoulders as she relays Cory’s tirade and the resulting punishment: she’s basically forbidden from seeing Lucas for the rest of the week, at least until they go back to school and he can’t very well stop them.

> **Maya:** So, like… hanging out at Chubbies?

Riley glances at Lucas, who raises an eyebrow. She clasps her hands together and shrugs, maintaining a tone of innocent sweetness.

> **Riley:** Well, what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.

> **Farkle:** Wow. The summer of love really changed you.

Riley makes a face at him. Lucas claims Cory is going to get what he wants anyway, seeing as he can’t just sit around all day. As he starts to get up from the table his attire becomes clearer, dressed in a pale blue Chubbies t-shirt with an off-white apron tied around his waist. Riley tries to get him to stay, but she still helps him loop the top half of his apron around his neck.

> **Lucas:** I gotta work.

> **Riley:** Okay, okay… but I’ll see you later.

> **Lucas:** Very daring of you.

The two of them exchange a quick kiss, Riley smiling as they pull apart. Maya scrunches her nose, playfully disgusted.

> **Maya:** Ew.

As Lucas marches away, he points back to Maya offhandedly.

> **Lucas:** I’m not serving you.

Maya scowls, holding her hands up in surrender to Riley and Farkle. Farkle laughs, shaking his head. Riley changes the subject, electing to focus on the positive. She claims that maybe the Lucas ban will be a good thing, as it’ll give her plenty of time to spend with her favorite friends in their last week of their last high school summer.

> **Farkle:** Sounds lovely. But can’t.

As Farkle goes on to explain -- bitterly -- he has a million doctors appointments scheduled for the week as his parents are determined to make sure he’s in top shape to go back to school. This is following a whole summer of therapies and overattentiveness and mindfulness exercises -- which he hates, by the way.

> **Farkle:** I’m  _ supposed _ to have thoughts! If our brains weren’t meant to think, then we wouldn’t think.

> **Maya:** Most people don’t.

> **Farkle:** Point is, mindfulness is bullshit. It makes me feel crazy, and I’m already crazy. It’s just ironic that last year all I wanted was my parents’ attention, and now I can’t wait for them to leave me alone…

> **Maya:** Grass is always greener, darling.

Riley seems disappointed she won’t see more of him this week, but she keeps her sights set on the future. She confirms that he’s still going to go to _West Side Story_ on Saturday night. It’s Zay’s last performance in the production, and she wants to get as many of them there to support him as possible.

Farkle assures her he can manage that, then gets up to head off to his first appointment of the day. Without him, all that leaves for company… is Maya. She gives Riley a sharp smile, Riley laughing awkwardly and dipping her head down to avoid her gaze. Wow, suddenly, she just remembered a bunch of stuff she has to do…

Maya rolls her eyes, leaning across the table to nudge at her. She claims it’ll be a good thing for them to hang out -- they haven’t done very much roommate bonding since they were forced to share a space.

> **Riley:** Something you specifically said you weren’t interested in when it happened…

> **Maya:** Yes, well, times change. Speaking of, our room. That could use some change, don’t you think? I can’t live in the humdrummery any longer.

This doesn’t seem like the _worst_ potential bonding activity, but Riley seems hesitant. She says they’d have to ask Cory, a task that is far less intimidating to Maya than her. There’s no harm in _asking_. Tentatively, Riley agrees, though Maya seems dissatisfied with her hesitant answer.

> **Maya:** Sneaking around with your boyfriend you can do, but you can’t ask your dad to redecorate? God, you gotta grow like a  _ minimal _ assertive streak. You’d think some of mine would’ve rubbed off on you by now.

Riley doesn’t know what to say to that, but Maya doesn’t give her the chance to respond. She leaps up to head out and Riley follows suit, only falling behind when she runs into Asher and Dylan at the entrance. They exchange bright greetings, Riley sharing a hug with Dylan before she jogs to catch up to Maya.

Asher and Dylan find Lucas at the counter.

> **Dylan:** Lucas James Friar! _ [ slamming his hands on the countertop ]  _ Do you have something for me?

Dylan narrows his eyes expectantly. Lucas matches his glare, deadpan, until he cracks with a huff. He rolls his eyes and reaches to grab a perfectly-made grilled cheese, sliding it across the counter at him. Dylan reacts in delight, Asher smiling at him as the two of them settle onto the stools at the counter. Asher asks how things are going, and Lucas gives them the short version of how his morning started.

> **Dylan:** _ [ while eating his grilled cheese ]  _ Oh,  _ overnight_? Scandalous.

> **Lucas:** It was not. We fell asleep. We were sleeping.

> **Dylan:** Mhm, mhm. For sure. Totally. I believe you…

Dylan winks. Lucas rolls his eyes again and Asher shakes his head, but he can’t help but smile. Lucas claims it’s for the best, as it frees him up to spend the rest of his week working. He was pretty heavily booked with shifts anyway.

> **Lucas:** I’m this close to being able to pay you back for my wrist --

> **Asher:** Something that you do not have to do, for the hundredth time.

> **Lucas:** Then I’ll be able to start saving it for myself. What for, I don’t know, but it’ll be damn nice to have it.

Asher points out he could be saving the money for school, but Lucas quickly side steps that conversation. He shifts to discussing what their week looks like before school starts again, all of them coming back to the same talking point -- Isadora. None of them have seen her for the last month or so, and any time they try to reach out she says she’s not up for visitors.

Understandable, given she’s grieving, but it’s been a couple months and they’re worried about her. Not to mention school is coming back, and that’ll be harder if she’s totally out of practice when it comes to socializing. Lucas can’t be of much help due to his work schedule, but he points out that’s not much of a loss as he’s terrible at stuff like this. Honestly, usually he and Isadora just tend to make each other worse at low points.

Before they can problem-solve, their conversation is interrupted by JOE, the Chubbies manager, breezing past them. He’s a large, slovenly man with Santa-like salt-and-pepper facial hair and in a Chubbies shirt that seems perpetually grease-stained. But he’s a smart businessman and quite the character, respected and loved fondly by the patrons of the diner and a decent boss. In fact, some regulars have taken to calling him “Pappy Joe,” due to his sort of roughrider demeanor.

He greets the boys gruffly, obviously well-acquainted with Dylan and Asher after a summer of them hanging around to chat with Lucas. They ask him if he thinks they’re going to keep Lucas on as an employee past his summer trial run. Joe sizes Lucas up, squinting, before patting his shoulder bracingly.

> **Joe:** Well, he didn’t rob us blind or burn down the shack -- accidentally or otherwise -- so I s’pose we can keep him around.

Asher grins, nudging Lucas’s forearm in cheeky congratulations. Dylan smiles as well, subtly nudging his free grilled cheese out of view of the burly manager.

Once Joe saunters off, they get back on topic. Asher states that he and Dylan will check in on Isadora -- they’ve got Dylan, the one person to whom Isadora can’t say no. Depending on how she seems to be doing, they’ll go from there.

**INT. WEST SIDE THEATER - BACKSTAGE - DAY**

Zay opens the door from the atrium and emerges in the backstage hall, leading YINDRA AMINO and NIGEL CHEY on a tour of the theater. The two friends are starstruck, captivated by being around an actual production where the magic happens.

Zay is excitedly showing them around, pointing out fun facts and cool exclusive pieces like costumes and the props table. They exchange greetings and brief introductions with his castmates as they pass by, everyone friendly.

Once they end up in the wings and Yindra and Nigel marvel at the real bona fide Broadway set, Zay huddles closer and points towards the stage where a young man, dressed as Tony, is running through “Maria.” Zay tells them all about him and speaks highly of him, admiration in his tone.

> **Zay:** He’s like a master. You’ve seen his rendition of “Something’s Coming.”

> **Nigel:** Yeah, he was pretty good.

> **Zay:** He’s great. And he’s a true professional, always on top of things, makes everyone else feel good and valued and welcome. I feel like I’ve watched his rehearsals so often I could do the part just by memory alone.

> **Yindra:** Sounds like someone has a boy crush.

Zay rolls his eyes, elbowing her as they turn away. But his esteem doesn’t end there.

> **Zay:** He’s exactly what I want to be, when I get there one day. Oh, and you know the craziest thing? He’s had a cold for the last week, but he still gets up and pushes through it every night to perform. And he sounds just as good! That’s showmanship to admire.

Maybe a little unhealthy, but then, I guess that’s show business. Nigel claims he’s glad he wasn’t sick when he saw it last month, or when he brought Jade to see it. Yindra agrees, though she jokingly claims no one could be better than _their Zayby boy_ as she throws an arm around his shoulders and half-hugs him.

Nigel informs him that they’ll both be seeing it again that Saturday, and he thinks Jade is coming too. Riley is getting a whole bunch of them to come, she’s basically campaigning. Zay comments that sounds about right, considering it’s Riley. This leads them into a discussion about who from their class has come to see it already, Yindra and Nigel listing back and forth while Zay offers help here and there based on his knowledge.

When Charlie inevitably comes up, Zay grows quieter, losing some of his comfortable confidence. Yindra and Nigel don’t notice, too caught up in commentary about his whereabouts.

> **Nigel:** I thought he did come. Didn’t he see it during opening week?

> **Yindra:** That’s what Haley  _ said _ was the plan, but then he didn’t show. Something about how his grandmother got ill so they had to drive up coast to see her.

> **Nigel:** Really? I thought he said his grandmother was dead. Like two years ago.

> **Yindra:** I mean, it’s exactly in line with how he’s been acting this summer. He has been so hard to get a hold of. I haven’t seen him at all.

This seems like the last thing Zay wants to talk about. He waits for a strategic lull in their complaints to change the subject, distracting them with offers to see the dressing rooms. They jump at the chance, leaving the conversation of their missing friend behind.

* * *

**INT. HAVERFORD PREP - AUDITORIUM - DAY**

**Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Your Love (Déjà Vu)” as performed by Glass Animals || Performed by Haverford Seniors**

Charlie, meanwhile, is just beginning to explore Haverford. He slips into the auditorium from the back of the house, looking towards the stage where rehearsal is already in progress.

The Haverford seniors -- his new classmates -- are in the midst of a skillful rendition of the Glass Animals single. It pairs well with their signature strengths: layered harmonies, suave moves, synchronization. With the matching uniforms, only varied by whether the boys have elected to strip their blazers during rehearsal and whether they’ve rolled their sleeves, etc., it’s hard to differentiate any of them at first glance. They’re a perfect, polished machine of sonic harmony.

That is, except for their frontman. Carrying the brunt of the vocals front and center is BRANDON RIVAS, an especially debonair senior with slick confidence and obvious talent. We’ve seen him before, at the Jacobs gala and the students of color mixer. He’s got a charming, intriguing smirk and dark, glossy hair styled well enough to rival Asher.

Regardless of your feelings on them, the Haverford boys are mesmerizing to watch. The performance seems to slip by in no time flat, and before Charlie knows it they’re breaking to go freshen up before their next class. Brandon rattles off some general notes for them to work on before their next run-through, the rest of them giving him shoulder pats and farewells as they head off to the dressing rooms.

* * *

Suddenly, it’s just Charlie and Brandon. The latter half turns towards him, aware of his presence despite Charlie being well-hidden in shadow. He claims he can come up and join him now, no sense in staying in the dark. The direct address snaps Charlie out of his nerves, and he jogs up the steps to come meet him.

> **Brandon, smoothly:** No need to be shy. This is your stage now too, isn’t it?

Maybe so. Charlie strides across the stage to stand in front of him, Brandon waiting casually with his hands in his pockets. He sizes him up as he approaches, looking him over, but for what it’s worth he doesn’t seem critical. He holds out a hand once he’s close enough.

> **Brandon:** Brandon Rivas. Nice to finally officially meet you.

> **Charlie:** Charlie. And thanks.

> **Brandon:** I know who you are. I saw your audition, though I’m sure you don’t remember me. “I Can Do That” is a difficult number if you actually intend to show off any skill, and you managed it well. At least, after you tied your shoelaces. That, and I’d heard a bit about you through the grapevine.

Charlie clearly wants to know more about that, like who would even be talking about him, but Brandon doesn’t offer anything more. He changes the subject, stating that he’s essentially the eyes and ears of the senior class and the de facto leader, if there was one. They’re all equals at Haverford, make no mistake, but it’s helpful to have a figurehead of sorts. Someone to look to and maintain order.

> **Brandon:** This will be helpful for  _ you_, of course, because you can ask me anything you might be wondering while you make your transition. I know just about everything there is to know. First, though, we should get you acquainted. Fancy a look around?

Charlie nods, grateful for the warm welcome. Brandon gestures for him to follow, leading him on the start of a grand tour of Haverford Prep from someone who actually knows the ins and outs day-to-day. Charlie keeps pace, not wanting to get left behind.

> **Jack, pre-lap:** We need to do a full examination of the building.

**INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY**

Jack and Eric are making their way through the darkened school, the former leading the way while the latter takes notes on a clipboard. They’re inspecting for anything that seems out of date, not up to snuff, eager to make a perfect first impression for the incoming administrator.

> **Jack:** I don’t want to give them any easy shots. If they want to criticize on baseless claims, then we’re going to make sure they have to dig deep.

> **Eric:** Don’t think that should be too hard. The school itself is in great shape, and with the exception of the senior A class, the students have always done well. Even the A class is likely to be better after everything last year.

> **Jack:** Yes, but when you’re looking for error --

Eric jogs to catch up to him, coming to head him off. He tucks the clipboard under his arm and takes Jack’s arms, gently stopping his relentless march and meeting his eyes.

> **Eric:** You know this whole thing the board is doing is inane, right? You’re a good administrator. You’ve made mistakes, yes, but we all have. There is no such thing as perfect.

> **Jack:** Very nice. Thank you for the affirmation, Hannah Montana.

> **Eric, sincerely:** You do a good job, Jack. You love this school, and the students, and they appreciate you. They know it wouldn’t be the same without you.

Though it’s biased coming from his counselor, there’s actually quite a bit of weight to the statement coming from Eric. It means something, because for a long time Eric didn’t believe it. It means something, and it clearly means a lot to Jack.

Still, there might be _other_ reasons he speaks so highly of him. Jack clears his throat, torn between holding his gaze and glancing anywhere else.

> **Jack:** Some might say you’re biased. Especially given… the way we are. With each other.

> **Eric:** … yeah? What exactly does that mean to you?

The air is suddenly a little bit thinner between them. It’s more than obvious as they hold eye contact that they both _know_ they share something greater than coworkers. That they’re something more to one another. They know it, might have even discussed it, but evidently haven’t landed on anything definitive.

Jack ducks the question, shifting his gaze behind Eric. He comments that the curtains could probably afford to be replaced, or at least deep-cleaned. He effortlessly slips from Eric’s grasp and shifts back into work mode, leaving him to grapple with the uncertainty yet again.

Eric takes a deep breath, then follows after him with the clipboard. Still willing to march with him, even when he doesn’t know to what degree they’re tied together.

**INT. DOCTOR’S OFFICE - DAY**

Farkle is sitting up on the examination table, having just finished consulting with his primary care physician. JENNIFER MINKUS is with him, there for the analysis of Farkle’s current state and where they should go from here.

All in all, good news. The physician commends Farkle’s improved BMI and overall health, that he’s picked back up the weight he lost last year and his vitals seem to be reading more stable than they were in the spring. While improvements could still be made -- more rigorous exercise, for one -- he’s well on his way to being back in shape.

When the doctor starts getting into specifics about what changes could be made and Jennifer takes out her phone to take notes, Farkle zones out. Blah, blah, blah, he’s heard all of it before. He pulls out his phone as well, but not for notes. He opens his message thread with Isadora instead, crafting a text to check in on her.

He texts her about being at the doctor and what’s going on with her this week, but doesn’t get an immediate response. Even though their banter seems to be more consistent and varied than the messages with Eric, she’s gone off the radar a bit for him, too.

**EXT. HAVERFORD PREP - DAY**

Concluding their tour, Brandon shows Charlie what he states is one of his favorite locations on campus. It’s a balcony walkway that bridges the two wings of the school, joined under the angular solar-paneled glass ceilings. They approach the banister facing out towards the city, a gorgeous view of the campus below.

Charlie seems a bit overwhelmed after the tour. Brandon asks him what he thinks and he simply claims it’s a lot different than AAA. That goes without saying, given the vastly different architecture and student body, but there’s a loaded quality to the statement that goes deeper.

Brandon examines him, not giving anything away. It’s unclear if he’s empathizing or just trying to figure him out, but he assures Charlie that he’ll adjust to Haverford in no time. It’s the best school there is, after all, so there’s little chance he couldn’t.

> **Brandon:** Thing about Haverford is that it’s tight. We’re a band of brothers, so we look out for each other. If you pull your weight, then the boys will be there when you need them. Even if you show up three years late.

> **Charlie:** Oh, well, that’s reassuring.

> **Brandon:** _ [ with a laugh ]  _ I’m only saying, I don’t know why you’re here or why you decided to leave Adams, but the fact is you’re here now. You make the most of it, truly turn yourself over, then I have no doubt you’re going to thrive. You feel me?

All things considered, Charlie is grateful everyone seems to be so friendly. At least in completely cutting the cord from his former support system, he doesn’t have to drift through senior year alone. He offers a smile.

> **Charlie:** Thanks. Seriously, that’s nice to hear.

Brandon returns the smile, though his is understandably more confident. He reaches out and gives Charlie a pat on the shoulder.

> **Brandon:** Welcome to Haverford, Charlie. We’re happy to have you in the brotherhood.

Brandon leaves him be, heading back inside. Charlie hangs back, glancing out towards the city for a moment longer. Out towards the west side, where AAA sits preparing for a school year without him.

Then he backs off, straightening his tie as he follows Brandon inside.

**INT. ERIC’S APARTMENT - NIGHT**

Eric arrives home after a busy day, tired but still with plenty to do. He dumps his things on a table before making his way to Isadora’s bedroom, knocking on the door before peeking his head in.

**INT. ERIC’S APARTMENT - ISADORA’S BEDROOM - NIGHT**

Isadora is lying on her unmade bed, wearing pajamas she never changed out of and staring blankly at her ceiling, where glow-in-the-dark stars have been stuck on. She doesn’t move upon Eric’s arrival. He asks her questions about how she’s doing, but gets no response to any of them. He sighs, used to this type of interaction between them.

> **Eric:** I’m going to make some dinner. I’ll let you know when it’s ready, and you can either eat with me or in here. Whatever you want to do.

He watches her for a moment longer, concerned, but leaves her be when she turns onto her side, her back to him.

Once her door is shut again, Isadora takes a shaky breath. She sits up and grabs her phone, scrolling through the various notifications she has — Farkle and Eric’s texts, Maya sending her a post on Instagram, and a voice note from Dylan. She stares at the screen, inwardly battling between replying or ignoring. Ultimately, she throws the phone across her bed and flops onto her back, looking up at the stars on her ceiling once again.

As gentle piano fades in...

* * *

**Song Cue ♫ ♪ “My Mistake” as performed by Gabrielle Aplin || Performed by Isadora De La Cruz**

Isadora starts the song on her bed, getting up after the first verse to walk around her room. She lingers on various things she passes. There’s a photo collage in a frame on her desk, filled with pictures taken over the past three years with her friends, to whom she sings _“I really want a conversation, but I let it slip away...”_

On her bedside table is a solar system lamp that spins when she pushes it. One wall is covered in space-themed movie posters, her fingers brushing along _E.T._ on a bicycle in front of the moon, and an astronaut sat alone on a bench in _Love_.

Following the chorus, as she sings _“I saw my friend today, he tried to comfort me,”_ Isadora leaves her bedroom and walks over to where Eric is cooking in the kitchen, but he’s unaware of her presence.

_I don’t think I’ll ever change..._

**EXT. NEW YORK STREETS - NIGHT**

With the swell of the chorus, Isadora leaves the apartment, transitioning to the streets of New York, where she continues to go unnoticed. People pass through her as though she’s a ghost. She imagines various familiar faces passing her by. Lucas playfully rolls his eyes at Dylan, who has an arm thrown around Asher’s shoulders, animatedly talking about something. Riley and Zay stand in line at a pretzel stand, laughing together at a joke Zay is telling. Finally, Maya pulls Farkle towards a shop window with excitement, pointing out a mannequin dressed in a glamorous faux fur coat. Farkle walks away, and Maya chases after him with a grin.

Isadora arrives in an empty park, decorated with fairy lights that twinkle like stars. She belts out the final chorus before the twinkling lights transition to the stars on her ceiling...

**INT. ERIC’S APARTMENT - ISADORA’S BEDROOM - NIGHT**

And we’re back in her bedroom for the final soft _“well, at least it was my mistake…”_

* * *

**INT. MATTHEWS APARTMENT - DAY**

Cory convenes with Riley and Maya, the two of them finishing up their dissertation on why they should be allowed to redecorate their room. Since they’re going to have to make this arrangement work for a while, he agrees that perhaps they could afford to spruce things up. He gives them a small sum to work with on the family credit card -- not as much as Maya was hoping for, but still something. Victory!

**INT. MATTHEWS APARTMENT - MASTER BEDROOM - DAY**

The girls immediately retreat to the bedroom to start planning, Maya pulling out some poster board from behind her dresser to start moodboarding. She sizes up the board, already trying to visualize it as Riley moves to her side of the room.

> **Maya:** I admit I was hoping for a little more bank to work with, but it’s fine. I’m an artist.  _ [ deep sigh ] _ I can get creative. Just with a little time to mentally rearrange…

> **Riley:** Actually, we might have a  _ little _ more money.

Maya’s eyes fly open, more intrigued at that than anything else Riley has ever said. She asks what she’s talking about, and Riley explains that she mentioned their plans to her mom, and she thought the idea was great. She may have sent over some money into her account for them to put towards the project. Maya asks how _much_ , rushing over to look over Riley’s shoulder at her laptop screen.

However much money she sees, it’s enough to make her gasp and practically jump up and down. She presses her hands to her chest, theatrically overwhelmed.

> **Maya:** Hell  _ yes_! Thank you, mama Lawrence.

> **Riley:** I mean, it’s nice, but don’t consider it charity. She’s always looking for ways to one-up my dad, so it’s more for her benefit than ours.

> **Maya:** God  _ damn_, I wish I had divorced parents. What an easy game to play. All I’ve got is a deadbeat I haven’t seen since I was in diapers, and let me tell you, he’s not throwing money around to win my favor.

Riley isn’t exactly inclined to agree, but it’s no use trying to correct her. It’s Maya. Anyway, she _is_ excited to start planning and shopping, but they’re going to have to wait a day. She already has plans that afternoon.

> **Maya:** What could possibly be more important than bling?

> **Riley, pointedly:** Friendship.

Maya doesn’t seem convinced, but to each their own. As Riley goes to get ready, Maya shifts back to the blank poster board. She’s much more excited now that their budget has been upped considerably.

**INT. ERIC’S APARTMENT - DAY**

Isadora emerges from her room, still clad in cotton shorts and a sweatshirt but at least up and moving. It’s because she’s expecting company, getting to the living room just as there’s a knock at the door.

When she pulls it open, Dylan and Asher are waiting on the other side. They give her enthusiastic smiles when they see her, not even faltering at her less than composed appearance. Asher claims it’s so good to see her, and she says they should feel honored. The only reason she’s letting them stop by is Dylan’s promised cupcakes.

Dylan holds the tupperware out proudly, and Isadora takes it. He starts to warn her that the message he intended didn’t quite translate over, but she’s already prying open the lid. The mistake is glaringly obvious, the cupcakes arranged to spell out **“Feel better Isado ♥”** with the heart tacked onto the end.

Isadora stares at the cupcakes, then looks up at them for explanation. Dylan eyes them forlornly.

> **Dylan:** I ran out of cupcakes.

> **Asher, fondly:** He wrote the heart first.

Dylan smiles sheepishly. He’s so darn cute, and genuine at that, even Isadora can’t help but crack a smile. She laughs a bit, closing the tupperware container.

> **Isadora:** They’re perfect. Thanks, Dyl.

His smile brightens. Isadora invites them both in, claiming she can at least show them her new room since they made all the effort to come over. Dylan comments how crazy it is that they’re entering a faculty member’s home.

> **Asher:** We’ve been to Riley’s.

> **Dylan:** Come on, Cory’s not like a  _ real _ faculty. If he evaporated, would anybody notice?

> **Asher:** You know you don’t have to convince me of Cory’s irrelevancy or failures as an educator.

> **Isadora:** Yeah, if he ever does go missing, you’re my first suspect.

Fair enough. Isadora drops the cupcakes on the counter in the kitchen and then guides them back down the hall to her room.

**INT. ERIC’S APARTMENT - ISADORA’S BEDROOM - DAY**

Whereas her physical appearance is easy to forgive, the state of her room is less so. It’s a total disaster area, the products of depression and general lack of fucks to give, though essences of how she originally designed it manage to peek through.

Asher, however, cannot ignore the mess. He stops stock still in the doorway with wide eyes, taking it all in with a subtle expression of horror as Dylan plows in after Isadora, not at all attune to the disarray. Asher takes his entrance more cautiously, careful to step on the few places on the floor where dirty laundry doesn’t reign.

Dylan asks Isadora how her summer has been and how it feels like they haven’t seen her since June. They lightly tread the subject of how she’s recovering from Valerie’s death, but it’s obvious she doesn’t want to talk about it. When Dylan asks what plans she has for the last week of summer and she basically intends to just waste it away in her room, Dylan gets fired up on her behalf. He claims she can’t _waste_ this time. It’s important! Indispensable! Of great import!

> **Isadora, to Asher:** Word of the day calendar?

> **Asher:** Oh, no, now he’s just started flipping through the thesaurus when I’m reading books. It’s kind of impressive, isn’t it?

> **Dylan:** Dora, you cannot let this time just wither away. We’re in the prime, okay? This is the BOT-R-O-Y-L!

Isadora blinks, lost. She looks to Asher again, checking to make sure that was English, but even he seemed stumped. He shrugs.

> **Asher:** Even I don’t know.

Dylan rolls his eyes. Asher shifts his focus back to the mess, lightly nudging at a sweater on the floor with his Oxfords.

> **Dylan:** BOT-R-O-Y-L. “The beginning of the rest of your life.” It’s happening now, Dor, and you can’t just let it slip away.

> **Isadora:** You’re serious. The last week of summer vacation is supposed to be the beginning of the rest of my life?

> **Dylan:** Yes! It is. Because this is the last summer where we’re all going to be here, in this way, exactly as we are now. And everything that comes after it is gonna come fast -- senior year, college choices, graduation. And when all that’s happening, you won’t be focused on it. You won’t be in the now, because you’ll be stuck here thinking about how you didn’t take advantage of this time when you should’ve. And that will just make you miss out on everything else. Like you’ll always be a few steps behind. The future is now!

> **Isadora:** … okay, you’re a weirdo, but you’re strangely making sense.

> **Asher:** _ [ tuning back into the conversation while he folds a couple of jackets onto her dresser ]  _ He’s good at that.

Point made. Isadora concedes it, but she also says that socializing is hard enough when she’s not… boiling over with emotions she still hasn’t figured out how to process. She knows she should be over it by now -- which Dylan and Asher both quickly refute, stating grief takes different time for everyone -- but it just feels like a lot. It’s easier to just stay in and keep that away from everyone else.

Dylan hears this, but he reiterates that they miss her. She can just try today, come out and do something with the two of them, and if it really feels like too much then no harm no foul. But Dylan feels pretty confident she’ll like it once she’s back out there. He knows she doesn’t feel quite like herself, but...

> **Dylan:** We’d rather have Dora at half-volume than no Dora at all.

This sentiment touches her, but she still doesn’t seem convinced. When she expresses her reluctance to go out again, Asher offers a suggestion of his own.

> **Asher:** Well, if going out feels like too much of a burden, then we could always stay here and clean.

It sounds like a joke, but coming from Asher, the statement is one-hundred percent earnest. Dylan gives Isadora a pointed look.

> **Isadora:** Okay, okay, fine. You got me, anything but that. Do your worst.

Isadora leads the march out, Dylan grinning. He meets Asher in the doorway, fondly pinching his side and leaning closer to whisper.

> **Dylan:** Good thinking on the cleaning thing. Always count on you to come up with a clever strategy.

He gives him a brisk kiss on the cheek, catching up with Isadora. Asher frowns slightly as he follows them out.

> **Asher:** It wasn’t a strategy…

**EXT. NEW YORK STREETS - DAY**

Maya is in fact window shopping downtown, but not with Farkle. She’s on the phone with him instead, keeping up conversation as she peers in boutique windows. It’s clear she’s excited about having some money to spend. Every other line in their conversation, she punctuates with a “ooh, that’s cute…” or hum of excitement.

**INT. MINKUS HOME - FARKLE’S BEDROOM - DAY**

The actual subject of their conversation, though, is Isadora. They’ve been her most consistent company this summer, but even they haven’t seen or heard much from her in the past couple weeks and are concerned. Farkle explains he heard through the grapevine that Dylan and Asher were going to try and handle it, to which Maya scrunches her face in disgust.

> **Maya:** Tragic. Well, good luck to Izzy.

Their third wheel out of commission, Farkle attempts to plan something with Maya around his many appointments that day. But she’s distracted, totally transfixed by the possibilities of shopping, that the plans don’t go anywhere. Farkle gives up, flopping down onto his bed as he continues to listen to her marvel about how nice it is to have funds.

Speaking of a place with no shortage of funding… 

**EXT. HAVERFORD PREP - DAY**

Riley is visibly amazed by the campus of Haverford as she makes her way towards the school. Charlie is waiting on the steps for her, jogging down to come greet her. She gives him an enthusiastic hug, immediately launching into questions about the school and its grand accommodations.

She suggests they go inside to take a look around -- he can give her a tour -- but Charlie dodges the request. He says they should walk somewhere else, get some fresh air. It’s school for him, so it’ll be nice to get away from campus for a little bit.

Riley can tell he’s being shifty about it, but she doesn’t question him, letting him lead the way. She glances back over her shoulder at the looming modern institution.

Clearly, Charlie isn’t ready to let his two worlds collide quite yet.

**INT. CHUBBIES - DAY**

Lucas is working the counter when Isadora enters with Dylan and Asher, not displeased to see her. He greets them as cheerfully as one could expect from him, stating it’s good to see Isadora out and about. He asks what they were up to this afternoon.

> **Isadora:** Went to the movies.

> **Lucas, unimpressed:** The movies. You went to see a movie?  _ [ to Dylan and Asher ] That’s _ your big breakout plan for Dora?

> **Dylan:** Hey, hey, hey, all in due time, young jackasshopper. The week is just getting started.

> **Lucas:** It’s Tuesday.

> **Dylan, unfazed:** The week is basically just getting started. You’ve got to ease into these sorts of things. _ [ patting Isadora’s shoulders ]  _ We’ll go grab a seat.

Dylan and Asher go to do just that, giving Lucas and Isadora the chance to catch up one-on-one. Lucas asks her how she’s taking being back out in the world, and she admits that Dylan is right. Something gradual like a movie was just what she needed to start, especially since the movie theater is her happy place.

> **Lucas:** So you’re feeling good about the rest of the week?

> **Isadora:** Oh, no, terrified. But less because of crushing social anxiety and more because of the unpredictable whimsy of Dylan Orlando.

> **Lucas:** So more like normal, then.

> **Isadora:** Maybe so.

Her banter is seemingly getting back in shape too. Lucas smiles lightly, telling her sincerely that he’s glad she’s out and about again. She returns the smile, weak but genuine, and saunters off to go join Dylan and Asher at a table.

Jack and Eric come through the door, shifting Lucas’s demeanor from soft to grumpy teenager in an instant. He asks what the hell they’re both doing there, showing up at his place of work unannounced. Can’t they just leave him be? Isn’t seeing him at school enough? Jack raises his eyebrows, torn between amusement and affront.

> **Jack:** Boy, you don’t  _ own _ Chubbies.

> **Lucas:** Not yet…

> **Eric:** _ [ off Jack’s eye roll, with a smile ]  _ We’re just picking up a lunch order. We didn’t come here to spy on you.

Lucas doesn’t seem convinced, but he takes their receipt and goes to retrieve the order anyway. Eric and Jack take a look around the diner as they wait, casually waving to the assorted Adams students who greet (or gape at) them from their spots hanging out.

Jack comments that it’s good to see Isadora out, facing away from them in her booth with Dylan and Asher. He knows that Eric was worried about her. Eric claims he’s always worried about her, but he supposes that is what parenthood is supposed to be like. Just odd, considering he skipped all the other stuff before teenagedom.

Well, Jack thinks he’s doing a pretty good job. So they both had somewhat unconventional life paths… so what? Nothing wrong with that. Eric agrees, pausing before venturing the topic again of other ways they might be unconventional. Their dynamic, whatever it is… certainly not exactly a standard work relationship. But, then, no fairytale romance either. Jack agrees, vaguely, not disagreeing with the assessment that it’s a romance but not exactly saying what they are either.

He turns back to look over his shoulder towards the counter, waiting for Lucas. Eric bounces on the balls of his feet, looking at Jack, trying to find how to make him say what he wants to hear.

* * *

**Song Cue ♫ ♪ “What A Man Gotta Do” as performed by the Jonas Brothers || Performed by Eric Matthews (feat. Jack Hunter)**

The energetic bass line floats in as Eric continues to look at Jack, launching into the song as he contemplates their relationship. While the specifics of their dynamic are unclear, there’s no question that Eric knows how he feels about Jack and what he wants from their relationship.

The first chunk of the song takes place within Chubbies, other patrons getting into the number. Jack is a participant but more in the reluctant muse variety, playing along with a bashful smirk but letting Eric do most of the performing. The dancing takes on a kind of sockhop ‘50s energy, bouncy and full of spunk.

**INT. AAA - DAY**

Throughout the second verse and chorus, we’re back at AAA, Eric continuing the serenade while he and Jack walk through various parts of the school doing their inspection. In the halls, in the auditorium, up on the catwalk, doesn’t matter -- Jack has his undivided attention, but the work at hand not so much.

**INT. AAA - CAFETERIA - DAY**

They conclude their walkabout in the cafeteria, Eric hopping onto the tables and really digging into his ballad. Jack chides at him and pulls him down off the tables -- health and safety hazard, come on! -- but that’s an excuse for Eric to drag him into the dance. The two of them do a little jig of their own across the cafeteria…

**INT. CHUBBIES - DAY**

Intercut with the number still going on at Chubbies. The dancing is much more impressive from the younger, more skilled cast members in the diner, doing lifts and flips and such, but Jack and Eric have no trouble maintaining the center of attention.

As the song comes to an end, they resume their former place at the counter before the number began. They settle back into nonchalance, as if the song never happened, the diner patrons back milling about and in their respective booths. Being the first performance in the space, it proves that Chubbies acts as sort of a liminal performance space -- not everything that occurs in the space is necessarily reality, when it comes to singing and dancing.

* * *

And that’s for the best, at least for Lucas. He returns moments later, spared the imaginary musical theatrics, and hands over their order. Jack hands over a few bills, tipping him nicely.

> **Lucas, pridefully:** I don’t want this.

> **Jack:** Yes, you do.

> **Eric:** Consider it a down payment for dinner tomorrow.

Well, with that logic… fine. Lucas makes a face and pockets the money, dropping one of the bills in the jar for the cooks. Suffice to say, Lucas’s relationship with money -- and who’s giving it to him -- is complicated at best.

**EXT. CENTRAL PARK - DAY**

Riley and Charlie have found a place to settle, a picnic table in the beautiful and scenic Central Park. He’s catching her up on how Haverford is going, selling it a little too keenly to be entirely genuine. He quickly shifts the focus off him, asking how everyone is doing in their last week of summer before classes start at AAA.

Riley gives him the short version of how everyone is doing, from Farkle’s medical stuff to Isadora’s grieving to her and Lucas’s slight trouble yesterday morning.

> **Charlie:** Oh, so  _ that’s _ why you had time to come hang out with me…

She glares at him, kicking him playfully. He grins, and she tells him that it’s already weird without him being on the same schedule as them. It’s going to be odd, not having him there. She reaches out, touching his hand.

> **Riley:** We miss you.

> **Charlie:** … I miss you guys, too.

Still, he claims it’s going to be okay. How things are is for the best. Sure, Riley says… and anyway, just because he’s at a new school doesn’t mean he has to disappear from their lives. He can still see them, he’s still part of their family. In fact, he should come see _West Side Story_ this Saturday.

This, Charlie is less able to gloss over with a smile. He falters, murmuring that he doesn’t know if that’s the best idea. Riley frowns, not allowing him to brush her off.

> **Riley:** Charlie.  _ [ waiting for him to meet her eyes ]  _ Have you gone to see it at all? It’s a really good production.

> **Charlie:** Yeah, I know --

> **Riley:** I know that you and Zay aren’t… I know things are off because of how you… how things ended last year. I know you’re not how you were, but you’re still… I mean, you’re still  _ friends_, aren’t you? I think he would want you to be there. To just ghost --

> **Charlie:** Okay, okay! Riley, you can ease off. I’ll… I’ll think about it.

Not a guarantee, but better than nothing. Riley lets it go, for now.

**INT. THERAPIST’S OFFICE - DAY**

Farkle is meeting with his therapist, DR. MICHELLE HAN. They discuss the phenomenal progress he’s made in just the last few months, and how while there’s still plenty of work to go, it’s good that his suicidal ideation doesn’t seem to have made a comeback.

> **Farkle:** Yeah, I think a good diet of making jokes about it whenever possible keeps it in check. Self-prescribed.

Dr. Han is used to his quips, so she merely smiles as she writes off the comment. They swap to discussing the progress of his treatment plans, and that the next stage is upping the dosage of the current antidepressant he’s on. Ideally, this should more regulate his mood and keep him from having those dips that he’s suffered from throughout the summer.

Farkle bluntly comments there’s nothing else to do but try, and though it’s said flatly, Dr. Han agrees. She reminds him that mental health is an imperfect, trial-by-error process, and they’ll take each development as it comes. Farkle nods, committed to it in spite of his pithy commentary and jokes.

**INT. AAA - ATRIUM - DAY**

Jack and Eric emerge from the front office, disappointed but not surprised to see that it’s dark outside. Their ability to stay well past a normal hour is truly astounding… but in this case, it makes sense. They both want Adams to be in the best shape it can possibly be, so the work is worth it.

After their thorough examination and enumeration of everything they need to do today, though, they’re on the right track. For their own mental well-being, Eric suggests they should do their best the next few days to get out of there before nightfall. If that means scheduling other things -- like dinners with the kiddos, for instance -- then so be it. Anything to get them out of there.

Jack agrees as they head towards the doors, pointing out they should make a pact then and there not to come in on the weekend. They will do their work during this week, as your average employee would, and then they will put up the healthy wall of distance. No coming in on Saturday or Sunday to do last-minute tidying or search for more problems to solve. They are going to be strong, independent men away from their disaster school.

Eric can fancy that. The two of them shake on it, a bit cheeky, before they push out the doors and into the humid August evening.

**INT. HAVERFORD PREP - STUDENT LOUNGE - DAY**

The next morning, Charlie gets more formally introduced to some of his fellow Haverford classmates when he checks out the senior student lounge. This includes BILLY ROSS (18), EVAN SCOTT (17), and DWIGHT “DWEEZIL” HOWARD (16), whom everyone affectionately refers to as Dweezil.

They’re all cute, charming, and well-groomed. Billy carries some of the signature aloof coolness of Zay or Nigel, while Dweezil could be a distant cousin of Dylan, only blonde and far more reserved. Evan is the most similar to Charlie himself, soft-spoken but pleasant and clever.

For what it’s worth, they’re nice, too. They show genuine interest in getting to know Charlie, asking him about what he likes about Haverford so far and what he misses about Adams. Billy seems particularly interested in Adams, wanting to know what their main rival is like within the stone walls. Charlie ducks talking about AAA, instead turning the conversation back to them.

Evan says that a bunch of them are going to hang out at Dweezil’s place after school today, and Charlie should definitely come. He thanks them for the offer, and is totally interested, but actually today won’t work. He already has plans.

> **Billy:** Ooh,  _ plans_. You got someone we might wanna know about, Charlie?

> **Dweezil:** I saw you talking to that brunette before lunch yesterday. She’s cute.

Ooh, a _girl_. Charlie laughs awkwardly, stating it’s not like that. The friend, or the person he has to see today. But it’s important, something he can’t miss.

Oh, well. Another time then. Charlie lets the conversation shift off of him, happy to be included but comfortably in the background again.

**INT. SHOPPING MALL - DAY**

Maya and Riley are out shopping, walking the spacious atrium of a mall out in the suburbs outside the city. Maya comments they would’ve had more fun walking 5th Avenue.

> **Riley:** Yeah, okay, we’re not broke, but we’re not working with  _ that _ much money.

Besides, as she claims, there’s more variety and flexibility at a mall like this. More options, and easily accessible. They’ll be able to find everything they need.

That, Maya can second. She pauses outside a cute boutique with chic clothes in the window, claiming that if they spend wisely, they can get more than just new room decor. Wouldn’t it be nice to have some new threads before the school year starts?

Riley hesitantly agrees, but she knows they have to be cautious with their funds. She tries to find a way to trick Maya out of her interest, offering up a challenge. Sure, they can shop for clothes too -- but then both of them get to pick an outfit for the other person. And the other _has_ to wear it on the first day of school, no arguments.

Riley’s mistake was forgetting that Maya loves a juicy challenge. She eagerly accepts, stating she is going to find the perfect thing for Riley to wear on the first day as she flurries into the store. Riley grimaces, chasing after her.

> **Maya:** You’re so on, Matthews. Let’s shop.

> **Riley, nervously:** Wait, okay, maybe let’s set some ground rules --

**EXT. NEW YORK STREETS - DAY**

Isadora is trailing behind Dylan and Asher as they make their way through AAA’s neighborhood, asking them where the hell they’re headed. Dylan deftly dodges her question with vague non-answers, to the amusement of Asher and chagrin of Isadora.

> **Dylan:** Are any of us  _ really _ headed anywhere? Are we not, at the end of the day, all headed to the same thing?

> **Isadora:** Thanks, Dyl Pickle. That’s what the girl with the dead mom wants to hear.

> **Dylan:** Oh, no no, you’re mistaken. I’ll never die.

Bewildering, but classically, Dylan offers no elaboration on that bold comment. He grins wider as he spots what he’s looking for, arriving in an outdoor pavilion area and greeting some additional members to their party.

It’s the techie crew, back in action. JADE BEAMON, NATE MARTINEZ, JEFF MONROE, and DAVE WILLIAMS are waiting around for them, happily greeting Isadora when they see her approaching with Dylan and Asher. They claim it’s great to see her, and Isadora accepts a gentle hug from Jade.

> **Isadora:** You’re not all just waiting around here for me, are you?

> **Nate:** Uh, yeah. That’s what Dylan told us to do.

> **Jeff:** We’re just happy to see you. And it’s nice to get the whole gang back together before we’re back in that performance prison for one more year.

> **Dave:** Well, not Lucas.

> **Jade:** No, of course not. Because --

> **All, mockingly:** “He has to work.”

Though she’s still uncertain, and doesn’t know if their dynamic is going to quite be the same, Isadora is already smiling again. The energy of the techie crew, her original crew, is infectious, and it’s good to be around them again. She turns the question to Dylan and Asher, asking if they thought this would be some magical serotonin cure-all.

> **Dylan:** Maybe. Is it working?

> **Asher:** We wanted to show you that even when you disappear for a while, your crew is going to be here when you’re ready to reemerge. You’re not going back into the jungle alone.

> **Jeff:** Bet.

> **Isadora:** Even after last year? Everything wasn’t exactly picture perfect before Hurricane Val wiped everything else off my mental map.

> **Jade:** I mean, no, things aren’t going to be exactly the same, but that doesn’t mean we’re gone for good.

> **Dave:** Once a techie, always a techie.

And that’s exactly the message Dylan wanted to be clear. And in case it wasn’t, well, there’s an easy way to remedy that.

* * *

**Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Jet Song” as performed by** _**West Side Story** _ **Original Cast Recording || Performed by AAA Senior Techies**

_[ Lyrics specific to characters. Follow along_ [ _here!_](https://docs.google.com/document/d/1-mjONrJT3BhKMGE6MgPIVJu7m95f1FdPPiuxZdZPtZ0/edit?usp=sharing) _]_

Dylan takes the Riff lead, kicking off the song with enthusiasm. Every “Jet” is smoothly replaced with “Tech.” When he refers to having “brothers around,” he loops an arm around Jeff and Nate and pulls them close in a hug. Asher takes over from there, the two of them passing the first verse back and forth.

Then the crew of them take off, marching through the pavilion as a group. While the orchestra vamps Dylan leads the group with Isadora, explaining his plan that they’re all going to go to Zay’s final performance Saturday night. Jade snorts at the idea that Lucas would go anywhere, let alone a theater; Nate points out that Zay is a performer, and they’ve never especially stepped up to support performers.

> **Dylan:** Nate, the era of divisions is past. There’s no techies, no performers. Just senior A class, baby!

> **Dave:** Great, daddio.

> **Asher:** So listen --  _ [ as the group huddles ] _ Everybody dress up sweet and sharp. Meet me, Isa, and Dyl at the theater before 7. And walk tall!

> **Jeff:** We always walk tall!

> **Jade:** We’re techs!

> **Nate:** The greatest!

From there, the techie tots take over, taking to the streets and jumping around together. Jeff and Nate are carrying most of the vocals, but as an ensemble, they all sound pretty decent. Thankfully, the Jets weren’t the most perfectly harmonious performers either. _Yeah_!

* * *

**EXT. COFFEE SHOP - DAY**

Charlie is seated alone at a table on the patio, at an unfamiliar coffee shop, tapping his fingers nervously against the tabletop. The rhythm is intrinsic, like a waltz, counts of three over and over to keep him grounded while he waits for his expected company. The lemonade he ordered sits untouched in front of him.

Thankfully, he doesn’t have to wait much longer. His eyes widen when he spots her, his internal metronome freezing on the downbeat.

BRIDGETTE GARDNER (21). She’s thin and waifish, pretty like her siblings with thick dark hair and attractive bone structure. But that’s where the resemblance stops, as her demeanor is nowhere near as palatable and pleasant as her brother. She’s dressed in dark hues, light crocheted cardigan hanging down around her elbows and exposing her shoulders under her black tank top. Her eyeliner is bold around her bright blue eyes, icy and sharp and heavy with something. Like knowledge, like she already knows everything there is to know, has seen all the truth that there is to see.

To Charlie, though, she’s just his big sister. The big sister he hasn’t seen in years, scrubbed out of his family history like an ink stain.

He rises to his feet as she hesitates, slowing her approach. Finally, they’re in front of one another, not sure what to say. Not smiling—Charlie in shock, Bridgette out of defensive precaution.

Then, Charlie moves, pulling her into an embrace without a word. He lets out a sigh, holding her tighter. Saying all the soft, vulnerable things without saying anything at all.

Bridgette tenses, then slowly lifts her arms to return the hug.

**INT. ANIMAL SHELTER - DAY**

Riley and Lucas are working side-by-side at the shelter, both clad in their dark green volunteer shirts. They’re cleaning out cat cages and feeding them as they go, moving with precision that indicates they’ve done this routine before. Volunteering there together isn’t a new thing for them.

As charitable as that is, Lucas can’t help but point out it doesn’t exactly abide by Cory’s demands. In fact, they’ve seen an awful lot of each other for two people who are forbidden from interacting for the week.

> **Riley:** I don’t see why the good animals of Manhattan should have to suffer for my misdeeds. It would be irresponsible, nay, an  _ injustice_, if I were to shirk my volunteer duties simply because we happen to work shifts at the same time.

> **Lucas:** Someone is getting real good at finding loopholes.  _ [ granting her a smirk ]  _ I’m so proud.

Riley beams, shrugging her shoulders flirtatiously. She goes on to tell him about how redecorating is going, explaining the challenge she and Maya made about getting to dress the other for the first day. Lucas cringes, though whether it’s because of Maya or because he’s cleaning a litterbox isn’t totally clear.

> **Lucas:** I like you, Riley, but I think I’ll have to cut my eyes out if you show up to school looking like a mini-Maya. Isadora last year was terrorizing enough.

> **Riley:** _ [ with an eye roll ]  _ We’re not dressing  _ like _ each other, we’re just picking for each other. Forces us to try something new, embrace a little change. Might as well start the year that way, since senior year is guaranteed to have a lot of it.

Yeah, to that point… Riley starts to ask if Lucas has thought at all about what his college application plans are yet. She knows she wants to apply to Barnard, a local all-women highly-ranked liberal arts college. And she’s thinking about performing programs, but then maybe not. Lucas seems hesitant to answer, but he’s saved by a VET TECH employee poking her head out from the back room.

> **Vet Tech:** Lucas, you got a minute to give us a hand? Lil’ Nat needs shots again, and you’re the only one who can get her to sit still long enough without traumatizing the poor thing.

> **Lucas:** Yeah, sure. I’m just about finished here.

> **Vet Tech:** Awesome. We’re just in the back when you’re ready.  _ [ to Riley ] _ I tell you, your friend’s got the magic touch.

> **Riley:** Oh, believe me, I’m very aware.

Lucas cuts Riley a look, which she matches with an innocent smile. Once the tech is gone, Riley watches Lucas scoop up the cat whose cage he was cleaning and lock it back up properly.

> **Riley:** You know, seems like you’ve got a thing for this. Working with animals. Maybe like… a talent?

Lucas brushes her off, especially the teasing nature of discussing “talent” when they know he has none, but Riley isn’t actually kidding. She watches him thoughtfully as he jogs to the back room, only turning her attention back to the task at hand when the cat in the cage she’s tending to headbutts her affectionately.

**EXT. COFFEE SHOP - DAY**

Bridgette is now seated opposite Charlie, some of the ice broken between them. She’s finishing up explaining why their reunion had to wait so long when he reached out in June and it’s now almost September — she was abroad in Europe.

> **Bridgette:** Take it from me, everyone should travel somewhere new at least once. Get a new perspective, see something they’ve never seen before. Illuminating, really.

Charlie pauses trying to process her actually being there, what she’s like now versus how he remembers her, to ask the obvious question — how did she afford to do that? There’s no way she had the money on her own after whatever happened with mom and dad.

> **Bridgette:** Family outcast rule number 1. Make rich friends.

And, as she goes on to explain, their great aunt Mary helped fund her voyage. This is shocking to Charlie, as she’s as devout as Eleanor if not more, but Bridgette explains that’s exactly why she did it.

> **Bridgette:** I think she saw it like the ultimate good deed, like missionary work at home. Like if she helped me go abroad, explore something new, the journey would take me straight to Jesus and I’d be born again. Then I’d come crying back to her, so grateful, so happy I’d found the Lord again and that she helped me achieve it. And I’d come back home, we’d be a perfect happy Gardner unit again, and she would get all the sainthood credit of bringing our devious defective Bridgette back from Satan’s fiery hold.  _ [ a beat ]  _ Obviously, that didn’t happen, but I ate a lot of hellishly good food.

It takes some adjusting, hearing someone from his family speak so uncharacteristically heathen-like. Zay, sure, but a Gardner? Charlie uses the opportunity to broach the topic of their family and her banishment, trying to get to the bottom of what happened.

> **Bridgette:** It’s okay, Chuckles. You can ask me direct. Neither of us are going to burn up in hellfire. I cast a protective charm over us when I sat down.

> _ [ Charlie blinks, uncertain. Bridgette gives him a look. ] _

> **Bridgette:** That was a joke. Come on, I’m just the exile, not back from the dead. You can laugh a little bit, buddy.

> **Charlie:** Sorry. Sorry, it’s just, um… a lot. And you’re… it’s just been…

> **Bridgette:** I know. Been a while since I’ve seen you, too, you know. Last I remember, you were two inches shorter with an even worse haircut. Might’ve still had braces too, though maybe it’s just all running together.

Comment about his hair aside, Charlie asks again what the heck even happened. Bridgette is surprised Eleanor never told them, as she thought she would’ve used it as a lesson. Made a big example, or whatever. Charlie claims the mystery and finality of her disappearance was deterrent enough, from any and all things. Maybe vagueness was more effective after all. Bridgette shakes her head, crossing her arms and taking a moment before meeting his eyes.

> **Bridgette:** You really wanna know what I did? Brace yourself, it’s downright damning. _ [ bluntly ] _ I had sex.

Charlie stares at her, waiting for more. There isn’t. Bridgtte senses his uncertainty.

> **Bridgette:** That’s right. I’m a dirty little sinner, because I had sex before marriage. Like damn Eve in the garden of Eden, just too curious with my devilish womanhood. But that wasn’t even my mistake, you know. I could’ve done it, and done it as much as I wanted, and gotten away with it. Mom and dad are intimidating, but they’re not all-knowing. They would’ve never known any better. No, my fatal error was telling mom the truth. I thought, okay, I did this, but mom loves me. She’ll help me out of it, figure out how to turn those feelings off, or at least set me up so that I could explore safely. I think that’s what I wanted, really, but I should’ve known that would never be an option. I didn’t get that far, anyway.

As she recounts it, their discussion after her confession didn’t last long. Eleanor was disappointed, disgusted even, and the only way she would “help” her would be to take her out of college and ship her off to Bible college. There, she could be under watchful eyes, and work through prayer and therapies toward rehabilitation with God. Bridgette said fuck that, and Eleanor claimed if she wasn’t going to fix it, she wouldn’t do it under their roof. So, she left.

Charlie shakes his head, struggling to grapple with it all. He supposes he knew, to some degree, always figured what must’ve happened. But it’s hard to reconcile, to work through, when he still knows his mother as loving and supportive and wanting the best for him. Conditionally, maybe, but that’s not nothing.

But he thanks Bridgette for sharing the truth with him. And for showing up at all when he reached out. She didn’t have to do that — he did nothing to help her either, so she could’ve easily just ignored him and kept the embargo going. She had every right.

> **Bridgette:** Charlie, it’s not your job to show up for me. Least of all when you didn’t even know. You’re my little brother, not a saint.

> _ [ Charlie lets that sink in. Bridgette shrugs, slouching more comfortably now that her secrets are out. ] _

> **Bridgette:** Besides, I figured if you were reaching out to me, there had to be a reason. You wouldn’t be sneaking around trying to connect with me if there weren’t some motivation pushing you to it.

> **Charlie:** Couldn’t it just be brotherly love?

> **Bridgette:** It could. But I’m not naive enough to believe it’s that simple.

They hold eye contact, Bridgette arching an eyebrow. Her icy eyes see right through him. _So?_

Charlie takes a deep breath, looking down at the table. He struggles through articulating that she’s not the only one with secrets, that he needed to see that even after her exodus she was still surviving. To see that there’s a life beyond their perfect house, just in case, because he’s more and more aware of the risk.

> **Charlie:** I’m never going to be the ideal son mom and dad want me to be. I can’t be. I’m not going to be the honorable man with the beautiful wife and perfect kids and radiant sense of blessed peace. I’m not going to have any of that. And I tried, I mean, I thought for so long maybe I could. I just hadn’t unlocked it, hadn’t figured out what was missing, but I know that’s not how it works now. I know who I am, and it’s not that. I’m never going to have a beautiful wife.

> _ [ Bridgette waits patiently. Charlie chokes on the thought and clears his throat, centering himself before he tries again. He meets her eyes. ] _

> **Charlie:** I’m gay. I don’t like… I couldn’t…  _ [ sighing ]  _ I’m gay.

The sentiment hangs in the air between them, Charlie’s first intentional coming out. Bridgette doesn’t seem at all surprised, or affected, maintaining her calm demeanor.

> **Bridgette:** Okay. Good for you, Charlie. Thanks for telling me.

Not nearly as dramatic as he imagined. But maybe it’s better that way. Charlie nods, catching his breath. Bridgette goes on to point out that sinning aside, he’s already smarter than she was as he clearly has not told their parents. As long as he doesn’t do that, then he’ll be fine, at least as long as he can handle the guilt.

> **Bridgette:** And who knows? Maybe they'll surprise you. Maybe mom will be like one of those Catholics who takes pity on the gays, those poor sinners who can’t help themselves. So long as you don’t do something  _ truly _ sinful and unforgivable, you know, like sex before marriage —

Charlie grimaces and then whines, dropping his head on his arms on the tabletop. Bridgette pauses, clocking his dramatic reaction, then bursts into laughter. Oh, Chuckles, Chuckles, _Chuckles_ …

**INT. MINKUS HOME - NIGHT**

Farkle and Jennifer return from another day of doctoring, the former obviously exhausted. EZRA MINKUS rushes out to greet him with a hug, telling him he missed him all day.

STUART MINKUS emerges from his back office as well, greeting them cheerfully and asking how everything went. Jennifer lauds Farkle’s improvement according to the doctors, and then the both of them begin asking Farkle a bunch of questions while Ezra barrels him with details about his day. How is he feeling? What does he feel like for dinner — they could order his favorite? Is he able to play now that he’s not sick? Frankly, Farkle has had enough prodding for a lifetime, mental or otherwise.

> **Farkle, waspish:** What I’m feeling is that I would like five minutes of a little peace and quiet! Alone!

He marches out of the room, retreating to his room and slamming the door. Ezra asks if he made Farkle mad, but Stuart assures him it wasn’t his fault. They’re all understanding. It’s just… tough right now.

**INT. MINKUS HOME - FARKLE’S BEDROOM - NIGHT**

Farkle reclines against his door, releasing a sigh. Solitude is nice, and needed, but it doesn’t make him feel all that better. He doesn’t _like_ feeling so moody, snapping at his family, being on knife’s edge. He misses when things were normal, or at least, he _thought_ they were. Recovery is crucial, but he didn’t expect it to be so damn exhausting.

He collapses onto his bed with a flop, the sonic pop beat dropping just as he does…

* * *

**Song Cue ♫ ♪ “In My Bed” as performed by Sabrina Carpenter || Performed by Farkle Minkus**

Farkle starts the performance sideways on his bed, the camera moving in odd angles with him as he dramatically rolls around in theatrics. He also moves around his room and plays with the scenery, leaning into the melodramatic anguish yet skillfully contrasted with the somewhat flat delivery of the vocals.

**INT. DOCTOR’S OFFICES - DAY**

The other part of the number is split in and out of doctor’s offices, Farkle basically floating through the scenery as different physicians and experts poke and prod and question him. He lets it all happen without comment, like a specimen under a microscope, staring blankly at the camera to convey his exhaustion while he sings.

**INT. MINKUS HOME - FARKLE’S BEDROOM - NIGHT**

Then, he concludes the song back in his room, flopping backwards onto his bed on the last _“I’m still in my bed.”_

* * *

**INT. RESTAURANT - NIGHT**

As promised, Jack and Eric are having dinner with Lucas and Isadora, the teens opposite them in a booth. Though the gathering is far from conventional — principal, counselor, adoptee, and delinquent — the dynamic amongst them is comfortable and casual. It’s clear they’ve done this multiple times before.

Isadora asks Jack and Eric how the inspection is going, if they think they’ll have to do a lot of work before the school year starts. Lucas asks for elaboration, like if they’ve learned anything about the hack coming into admin or what his game is. Jack cautions against writing the new colleague off as a hack from the get-go, to which Lucas rolls his eyes. Eric assures them they’ve got everything under control, and he’s feeling confident things will go off swimmingly.

> **Lucas, flatly:** Someone should be.

He swipes a fry off Isadora’s plate, causing her to elbow him in the side. He’s got his own food, doesn’t he? Jackass. Lucas grins, chewing his stolen French fry pointedly. Eric watches them in amusement, Jack commenting that’s as good a time as any to grab the check. He gets up to go pay, leaving Eric to temper Lucas and Isadora’s sibling-like bickering.

As Jack pays the bill, the WAITRESS working the register casts a glance towards their unusual table. Though, to her, it clearly doesn’t seem so odd. She smiles.

> **Waitress:** Cute family.

Jack opens his mouth to correct her, but something stops him. Instead he glances at them, then back to her, retrieving his credit card.

> **Jack:** Thank you.

She tells him he’s good to go. As Jack puts his card back into his wallet, he watches his “family” far afar, fondness written all over his face.

**INT. MATTHEWS APARTMENT - MASTER BEDROOM - DAY**

The room is in the midst of a makeover, Riley and Maya moving things around while they add their new decor to the space. It’s already got a little more pizazz, but still has a ways to go.

Maya is doing more directing than helping, distracted by their clothes haul and eager to get to trying stuff on. Riley drags her away from the bags, reminding her that once they get their room in shape, _then_ they can see what torture they have in store for each other.

> **Maya:** Ye of little faith…

**INT. CHUBBIES - DAY**

Lucas is bussing a vacated table when Farkle hurricanes through the doors in a huff. It’s clear he’s frazzled, fidgety as he spots Lucas.

> **Farkle:** You’re here.

> **Lucas, bluntly:** Yeah. I work here.

> **Farkle:** Oh, right. Weird.

> **Lucas:** Sure, I’m the weird one…

Lucas starts heading back behind the counter with the bin of dishes, Farkle trailing along behind him. He asks if Riley is here, to which Lucas tells him he can look around and answer that for himself.

That’s obviously not what Farkle wants to hear. He runs a hand through his hair, smacking a hand down on the countertop.

> **Farkle:** I swear, I’m losing my mind. Not that I had much of one to begin with, but if I have to spend one more day in a doctor’s office or in that stupid penthouse suite I really think I might kill someone.

Lucas just looks at him, slightly judgmental, clearly wondering why the hell he has to be the one stuck listening to this tirade. But Farkle is not deterred, continuing on about how he’s sick of being monitored and babied and so heavily in control it’s like he’s spiraling out of it in spite. It’s suffocating, and he doesn’t know how he’s supposed to fix it when the stuff that _fixes_ it is what is making him insane. He feels crazy. He feels absolutely deranged. After a certain amount of melodrama, Lucas snaps.

> **Lucas:** Oh my God, enough!

He walks away from the counter, his disappearance just enough to stun Farkle into silence. He reappears a few moments later though, peeling off his apron and hanging it behind the counter. He heads towards the door, gesturing brusquely for Farkle to follow.

> **Lucas:** Come on, move it. Let’s go.

> **Farkle:** What? Where are we going?

Lucas stops, meeting his eyes with a sharp glare. It’s not the least bit encouraging.

> **Lucas, shortly:** We’re  _ fixing _ it.

Then he pushes out the door, not waiting up. Scary prospects, and Lucas has never been a friend to Farkle. But his curiosity is piqued, it’s a distraction from the… everything else, and well, he’s always had a little bit of a fear kink.

Farkle jogs out after him.

**EXT. SKATE PARK - DAY**

Dylan and Isadora are making their way down the street, Isadora once again unsure where they’re going. She also asks where Asher is, as it’s just the two of them that afternoon. Dylan explains that he got Riley to pull a favor for him with Zay, but doesn’t elaborate. He’ll catch up with them later. Isadora gets distracted before she can question further, as they arrive at their destination.

The local skate park. Bustling with teens on a Friday afternoon, full of life and energy. It’s clearly Dylan’s turf, a few other skaters shouting greetings at him that he returns with a wave.

Isadora, on the other hand, is not enthused. She’s like oh no way and starts to turn around but Dylan pulls her back, encouraging her to just give it a try. She points out that she has never skated in her life, but he claims that doesn’t matter. As he goes on to say, when he first started out he didn’t know what he was doing either. But it’s freeing, it clears his mind, and she has to admit the two of them have more in common mentally than one would think at first glance.

> **Dylan:** When I started skating, I fell all the time. Got banged up and bruised and scraped, even in places I didn’t know could scrape.

> **Isadora:** Oh, nice. Very encouraging, thank you.

> **Dylan:** But I got back up. Every time. Right now, you’ve been knocked down and banged up and scraped. _ [ holding out his board ]  _ It’s time to get back up.

He holds her gaze, putting the ball in her court. Isadora hesitates, looking at the board… then takes it with a sigh.

> **Isadora:** Might as well try.

Dylan grins and bounces on his feet, eagerly finding a place for them to practice. He helps her get on the board and then lets her use him as a way to steady herself, until slowly they start moving in one direction. Just when it seems like she’s got the gist, and Dylan lets her go, she speeds up a bit… and wipes out, unable to stop and falling off the board as it keeps going and rams into the chain-link fence.

> **Dylan:** Oh, yikes --

Dylan jogs over, asking if she’s okay. But she’s merely laughing, falling onto her back and cackling uncontrollably. Once she manages to calm to a giggle, she accepts his help to climb back to her feet. She seems energized for the first time all week, expression bright.

> **Isadora:** Let’s try again.

Dylan beams, nodding. The two of them jog to grab the skateboard.

**INT. WEST SIDE THEATER - AUDITORIUM - DAY**

Zay pushes open the door from the hall, entering with Asher following tentatively behind him. He has the same awe as Yindra and Nigel as he gets to walk around a real production, though his is also sprinkled with his usual amount of nerves.

> **Asher:** Again, if this is a bother, any burden at all, you really don’t have to show me --

> **Zay:** Well, you’re already here so.  _ [ patting his shoulder ] _ Let’s enjoy it, yeah?

Clearly, Zay has experience dealing with people riddled with anxiety. Still, it works, Asher nodding and following him onto the stage. Zay smiles, telling him he’ll really want to see this, before showing him the full set for the show. Mainly, he thinks the movable set piece that has the fire escape on it is the coolest. Asher marvels at it as Zay climbs around, pulling himself up to sit on the base of the metal.

> **Asher:** Seems sturdy. Good structural design. It would be nice if we could figure out that balance at Triple A -- we usually have to sacrifice style for functionality.

> **Zay:** I wouldn’t call your sets unstylish, Garcia. But anyway, still have one more year to try. And it would probably help if we could have a set that  _ didn’t _ get vandalized three-fourths into our production.

Touché. Asher continues to walk around the set pieces, getting a good look. Zay states that he likes hanging out on the fire escape since he doesn’t get to spend much time on it during the show -- it’s reserved for Tony and Maria. But off the clock, well, he can do whatever he wants. Just as he’s declaring this independent take, his director steps onto the stage with the stage manager, discussing the show.

Zay hops down from the set quickly, the director cheerfully greeting him but asking what he’s doing there so early. He doesn’t have call time for another couple hours. He coolly explains that he’s showing a friend around, finding Asher hiding behind the set piece and lightly yanking him out to come introduce himself. Asher’s instinct to be professional and polite takes over, making a good impression as he shakes her hand.

> **Zay:** If you’re looking for a production designer in a couple years, look no further. Asher has been creating killer sets and designs for our productions at Adams for four years.

> **Asher:** Oh, well, I don’t know if --

> **Zay:** It’s true. I showed you those photos from our production of  _ Les Mis_? This guy, right here.

The director seems suitably impressed, commending Asher for his eye. Asher awkwardly brushes it off, overwhelmed by the praise, claiming it was just as much the effort of his fellow technicians to bring it to life that pulled it off. The director is pleased by that humble reaction, stating it was a pleasant surprise to meet him and telling Zay she’ll see him later before sauntering off with the manager.

> **Zay:** Just got you your first post-grad job, I bet. You’re welcome.

Asher shakes his head. He asks how Zay like… does that all the time, just confidently sells himself with no reservations. Doesn’t he feel weird, bragging like that?

> **Zay:** Well, it’s not bragging when it’s true. I’d argue it’s equally bad to sell yourself so short no one ever even knows you’re there.

> **Asher:** I guess that’s true.

> **Zay:** And why  _ shouldn’t _ we sell ourselves? Isn’t this the time to do so? Especially when we have the talent, when we deserve it? We’ve got one more year in school, and then after that it’s a whole new world. I don’t know about you, but I’m going in strong.

* * *

**Song Cue ♫ ♪ “ROYL” as performed by Chloe x Halle || Performed by Zay Babineaux, Asher Garcia, Maya Hart, Riley Matthews, Isadora De La Cruz, and Dylan Orlando**

Zay leads us into the boppy fun pop track, highlighting the theme for the episode as well as the season as a whole. It’s time to live their lives, spread their wings and fly, and if that includes being a little glamorous and daring, then so be it!

He manages to pull Asher into it within the first verse, the two of them spending the rest of the number strutting through the backstage areas and chewing up the scenery. Though they’re not the only two working the number…

**EXT. SKATE PARK - DAY**

Dylan and Isadora have their time to jam, boasting the coolest setting as their backdrop. They harmonize and goof off while skaters do impressive tricks around them. Talk about living on the edge and spreading your wings!

**INT. MATTHEWS APARTMENT - MASTER BEDROOM - DAY**

And Riley and Maya share the sequence as well, grooving and vocalizing while decorating the room. It makes great strides over the course of the song, both of them collapsing onto their beds with a flourish when they’re done.

Just as an explosive goes off --

* * *

**EXT. OUTDOOR HIDEOUT - DAY**

The boom is a firework, Lucas back to his old tricks of setting off explosives. Only this time, it’s a charitable act, as he’s showing Farkle how to do it in an effort to relieve some of his tightly wound stress. It seems to be working, Farkle laughing hysterically as they set another off and let it go zooming off into the sky. He says this is the best afternoon he’s had in weeks.

> **Lucas:** That’s pathetic. But you’re welcome. Just… don’t tell Riley.

Legal? Questionable. But fun? Yes. And seemingly exactly what Farkle needed. He’s got new life in him now, looking towards Lucas as he grabs another bottle rocket and starts to expertly set it up. When he rises to his feet, Farkle speaks.

> **Farkle:** I misjudged you.

The conversation takes on a slightly serious tone, Farkle explaining that he spent so much time deriding Lucas and judging him and purposefully trying to drive him crazy when he honestly didn’t even really know him. And some of the stuff he did to him, the way he behaved… it wasn’t right. So he hopes, like he said last year, that they can move past it.

Lucas is obviously a bit uncomfortable with the vulnerability, but not opposed to the idea of a truce. He avoids eye contact, shrugging.

> **Lucas:** Well, it’s not like I was an angel towards you either…  _ [ glancing at him ]  _ Guess we can call it even.

Sounds good to Farkle. He nods, agreeing. Then Lucas gives him the lighter to do the honors, Farkle dropping down excitedly and flicking on the flame. As he lights the next fuse…

**INT. MATTHEWS APARTMENT - MASTER BEDROOM - DAY**

Maya is looking not quite like a firecracker, good-looking as always but out of her element in the outfit Riley chose for her. She’s sporting a sleek cotton turtleneck and tight-fitting gold plaid pants that cinch at her waist. She looks good, it’s just not what she would’ve envisioned. She frowns slightly as she nitpicks at her reflection, telling Riley to hurry up in the restroom. She wants to see her grand vision in action.

And see it she does. Riley emerges from the bathroom, dressed in a black Bardot dress with an open back and exposed skin on her torso where the chest of the dress cinches into a delicate bow. Maya has paired the look with tie-up knee-high boots. To be blunt, she looks hot as hell, but it’s way bolder than Riley would ever be on her own. She doesn’t quite know how to carry herself in it, making herself smaller as she comes to stand in front of the full-length mirror with Maya.

> **Maya, whistling:** Now that’s what I’m talking about, Riles. Bang bang.

> **Riley:** I don’t know. It feels a little… I mean, don’t you think --

> **Maya:** What I think is that if you carry yourself properly, you’ll look slamming.

She makes subtle adjustments to Riley’s posture in the mirror -- standing up straight, lifting her chin, taking a power stance rather than trying to remain unassuming. And to her credit, Maya is right. Riley _does_ look awesome, especially when she holds herself the way she should. And it still feels like her, too, somehow. Just Riley Matthews with the volume turned up. Maya grins at their reflection, proud of her work.

> **Maya:** You’ve got this in you all the time -- every woman does. It’s part of our natural superior power. Maybe it’s time to let  _ this _ you take control for a while.

Maybe Maya, scarily, has a point… and she does look damn good…

> **Maya:** You know, rather than being a doormat who defers to everyone else all the time. Just an idea. Especially when you look hot!

Okay, less encouraging. Riley shoots her a glare at that comment, but even when Maya walks away her point remains. Riley contemplates, looking at her empowered reflection.

**EXT. SKATE PARK - DAY**

Asher arrives at the skate park, finding Isadora sitting on the concrete benches. He plops down next to her with a greeting, asking why she’s just there by herself. Isadora shrugs like it’s no big deal, claiming she wanted to set Dylan free for a bit to have fun on his own terms. She doesn’t mind. It’s fun to just watch him.

And he clearly is having fun. He’s laughing with other skaters and working out some tricks of his own, bright and social as ever. When he does a kick-flip and lands it with a flourish, Isadora comments that he’s gotten really good at skating.

> **Asher:** Yeah. Wasn’t always though. First time he brought me here, he basically face-planted and I had to patch up his wounds.

> **Isadora:** Well, that’s why you’re good together, isn’t it? Balancing each other out.

> **Asher:** Guess so. Friends are like that, too, though. Patch you up when you fall.

Yeah, if they’ve proven anything this week, it would be that. Isadora meets his eyes, offering a small smile that he easily returns. Grateful for his time and effort, even if she doesn’t have the words to articulate it. Asher isn’t going to push her, not one for big emotional speeches either.

And thankfully, they have the best distraction there is to focus on instead. Dylan preps to ride the half-pipe, looking over his shoulder and spotting the two of them. He notices that Asher has joined them, grinning wider. He blows a kiss towards them, then tips off the side and into the rush of the ride.

**INT. WEST SIDE THEATER - DRESSING ROOM - NIGHT**

It’s Saturday night, and Zay’s final performance in _West Side Story_. He’s backstage getting ready when Yindra and Nigel are allowed backstage to visit, exchanging cool nods with a couple of the other performers before rushing over to him. Nigel asks Zay for a big favor, to which he raises his eyebrows.

> **Zay:** Depends. How big is this favor?

> **Nigel:** … so the techies are here tonight, and Jade is with them, but  _ she _ said she’d be just as happy sitting with me and Yindra. So then I mentioned how you took us backstage the other day, and how cool that was, and then I said  _ maybe _ you could do the same for her. At least to see the costumes. Man, if I could get Jade back here to see  _ actual _ Broadway --

> **Yindra, helpfully:** _ Off _ -Broadway…

> **Nigel:** \-- level costumes, she would think it was so cool. Please, can she come backstage after the show? Please. Please?

> **Zay:** Alright, alright! You can bring her back here, Shakespeare-in-love. You’ll just have to wait until we’re done with post-show notes so I can say bye to everyone.

Nigel lightly pumps his fist. Score. Yindra shakes her head at his ridiculousness, obviously well used to his Jade-related monologues by now.

Suddenly, the director flurries into the dressing room in a full state. When the actors ask what the hell is wrong, she informs them that their Tony has succumbed to his illness. He’s not going to be able to make the show.

> **Actor 1:** Succumbed? Is he  _ dead_?

> **Actor 2:** His cold? He’s been working through it all week!

> **Director:** Yes, well, now it’s pneumonia. Our Tony has pneumonia, his understudy is out of state, and we are royally fucked.

> **Yindra, under her breath:** That’s what happens when you don’t let yourself recover...

For a moment, there’s the electricity of opportunity in the air as Zay thinks fast. Then he steps forward, stating confidently that he can do it. He can do the Tony role. Yindra and Nigel gape at him, stunned and amazed.

The director starts asking questions, like who will do his role and how he’ll do an entirely new part in one night. Zay’s more than prepared, firing back answers.

> **Zay:** I’ve been studying his rehearsals, I know all the blocking. I can do the singing and dancing in my sleep, and you know I’ve got the range. My understudy is here, so he can just step into the Riff role.

The director considers this, torn between conventionality and truly desperate straits. Zay appeals to her ethos, coming across as stable and capable as he can.

> **Zay:** I can do this. I can play the role.

An endless moment of tension, of uncertainty. Then the director caves, agreeing to the change and instructing Zay to go to costuming _fast_ and get suited up for Tony. They’ll have to make some last-minute tailoring adjustments, but nothing they can’t pull off in the next thirty minutes. Thank God for simple male costuming. Everyone else, warm ups in the green room in five minutes!

The moment she’s gone, Zay turns back to Nigel and Yindra with palpable excitement on his face. They jostle him enthusiastically, lowkey screaming at this turn of events. Zay is about to headline his first _Off-Broadway_ show!

**INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - NIGHT**

In contrast to the high energy of the West Side theater, the Adams auditorium is peaceful. Makes sense, since it’s a Saturday night and school doesn’t open until Monday. The lights are down, only one set of lights on above the stage where Eric is sitting. He’s comfortably on an acting block, looking out at the quiet house and sipping from one of his office mugs.

Unsurprisingly, Jack makes his way onto the stage a few moments later. He raises his eyebrows at seeing Eric already there, but he can’t help but smile.

> **Jack:** I thought we agreed we weren’t coming in this weekend.

> **Eric:** Yeah, and I’m a liar. I caved.

> **Jack:** Well, I’m here too, aren’t I? I just wanted to come in on the offensive.

Eric smiles, patting the acting block set up next to him. Jack walks over, settling down onto the block and releasing a sigh. He soaks in the plaintive quiet for a moment, commenting how different it’ll feel on Monday when the students return. Instances of quiet like this are pretty rare, in this land. The calm before the storm, in a sense.

At least, Eric claims, this year isn’t likely to be the hurricane last year was. And they’re better prepared, now, and they’ve got their school in tip-top shape after this week. They’ve done the work. The kids have done the work. They’re ready now, for what happens next.

Jack chooses to believe he’s right, even with the impending threats that might descend upon their peace come Monday. They joke about how they’re both there bracing for the worst anyway, but Eric points out it’s not just that. He likes coming in just to spend time there, like Stockholm Syndrome almost. Adams, in some ways, is their baby. Especially in the last few years, it’s been something they’ve raised from the ground up to be better. Just like their students.

> **Jack:** And amazingly, I wouldn’t have it any other way.  _ [ raising his thermos ] _ Partner.

Eric smiles. Even if other aspects of their relationship are murky, that’s something. Partner… he could get used to partner.

Eric clinks his mug against Jack’s thermos, as Zay’s vocals and the orchestral underscore of _West Side Story_ gently floats in...

* * *

**INT. WEST SIDE THEATER - AUDITORIUM - NIGHT**

**Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Somewhere” as performed by** _**West Side Story** _ **Original Cast Recording || Performed by Zay Babineaux & Charlie Gardner**

We’re in the second act of the show, Zay obviously killing his first and last stint as Tony. He sings expressively as always, emotive and strong. He has decent chemistry with his co-star as well, especially for only jumping into the role on the fly that night.

In the audience, over the course of the first verse, we see plenty of familiar faces in the audience as Riley planned. She’s sitting next to Lucas, and down the line from him are the rest of the techies, Isadora nestled between him and Dylan. Farkle and Maya are present as well. Jade is sitting next to Nigel, leaning over to whisper something in his ear. Yindra eyes them from Nigel’s other side, amused.

Then, in the back of the house, there’s Charlie. There after all, but hidden away. He’s standing in the wing of the doors to the atrium, though it seems as though he wasn’t hiding there the whole show. He watches Zay perform wistfully, that usual mixture of awe and pride in his features, but it’s cut with melancholy now.

Then, as the Maria verse starts, it’s not Zay’s co-star singing, but Charlie instead. On stage, it’s not the actual performance but the two of them under the soft lights, sharing the duet with more chemistry and far more emotion than the original duo could ever have. On the line _“hold my hand and we’re halfway there,”_ Charlie and Zay lightly press their palms together, before sliding their fingers together and clasping their hands.

_We'll find a new way of living, We'll find a way of forgiving…_

But that’s not reality. It’s a nice dream, wishful really, but as apt as the lyrics are, it’s not the truth. Charlie blinks the wetness from his eyes, turning and escaping the theater.

**EXT. WEST SIDE THEATER - NIGHT**

Charlie pushes into the breezy summer night, letting out an exhale. He stands frozen for a moment, torn over going back in to see it through to the end…

But he can’t. It’s over now. What’s done is done. Charlie stuffs his hands in his pockets and starts down the street, pointedly alone in the Manhattan evening. The orchestra plays him off as we watch him get further and further away…

* * *

**INT. WEST SIDE THEATER - ATRIUM - NIGHT**

Zay, on the other hand, is surrounded by company as he gathers with spectators after the performance. He’s clutching flowers from his family as the director lauds his talents to DONNA BABINEAUX, OMAR BABINEAUX, and JADA BABINEAUX. She states he’s a life-saving performer, totally saved the show tonight, and he knows her number for when he’s ready to jump back on the stage. Talk about a helpful connection!

After she flutters off, Donna pulls Zay into a hug and tells him how incredibly proud she is. Omar echoes the sentiment. Jada playfully elbows him and then ruffles his hair, to his complaints, saying she can’t let his head get too big, now. Might have to take a pin to it and let out some of the hot air.

They release him to go greet his adoring fans -- that is to say, his friends. He fields compliments as he goes, finding his way to Riley, Lucas, Dylan, and Asher first. Riley gives him a tight embrace, saying he was amazing and talking about how cool it was to see him play Tony. I mean, the _leading_ role!

> **Zay:** Gotta say, I’m amazed you’re here, Friar. Didn’t think Riley had that much power.

> **Riley, cheekily:** Well, you shouldn’t doubt my influence.

> **Lucas:** _ [ rolling his eyes ]  _ You can take my presence as the highest compliment.

> **Zay:** Sure…

> **Dylan:** You know, I always knew you’d make a great Tony.

> **Zay:** No kidding?

> **Dylan:** Oh, yeah. Just this tingle I got. Between us here _ [ leaning in conspiratorially ]  _ I’m kind of a little bit psychic.

> **Zay:** Nooo kidding…

Asher grins, leaning into Dylan’s side. He commends Zay again for his stellar performance, giving him an out to escape the conversation. Zay nods gratefully -- for more than just the compliment -- sliding past them and spotting the person he wants to speak with next.

Isadora is standing between Farkle and Maya’s crowd and the rest of the A class congregation, but somehow she still comes off isolated. Zay saunters over to join her, making a light joke about how she’s emerged from her hibernation and it’s good to see her again. Isadora manages to laugh along, then congratulates him on a good performance. Before he can respond, she blurts out an addition.

> **Isadora:** She would’ve been here.  _ [ a beat ]  _ My mom. She was going to move to New York, and she… she wanted to know my friends. Wanted to support young talent -- she knew it when she saw it. She would’ve been here.

Zay lets her express the rushed sentiment, then nods appreciatively, before finding the best thing to say in response. He smiles lightly.

> **Zay:** I’m glad you are.

It’s a layered statement. Glad she’s there at all, glad she could be there when her mother couldn’t, emphasizing that her presence matters just as much if not more than her starlet mother’s would’ve. It lands for Isadora, who manages a grateful smile in return.

Zay lets her go, slipping into the A class conversation as they’re in the midst of it. Yindra, Nigel, and Jade greet him enthusiastically, HALEY FISHER and CLARISSA CRUZ waiting for their chance to give him sincere congratulations. It’s so cool, one of them really being up there! And of course, it would be Zay Babineaux.

Unfortunately, though, he picked the worst time to slide into the discussion. They’re actively discussing Charlie, only the mystery has gotten weirder.

> **Clarissa:** No, he literally  _ was _ here. Like, he sat with us all through Act 1.

> **Haley:** Yeah, he got up in the middle of Act 2, said he had to get some fresh air. Then he never came back. I’ve tried texting him, but he’s not answering.

> **Clarissa:** It was weird, even for Charlie.

> **Yindra:** I swear, that boy is a whole ass enigma for someone who tries to be so intentionally vanilla.

Maybe so, Yindra. Maybe so. It’s clear that Zay doesn’t know how to process this information. The fact that Charlie was there, that he came at all… but then apparently walked right out halfway through. And on the night he was playing Tony, the night where his performance was truly something special.

Either way, it certainly takes the wind out from under his wings.

**INT. ERIC’S APARTMENT - ISADORA’S BEDROOM - NIGHT**

Isadora and Farkle walk into her bedroom, which is now considerably tidier than the last time we saw it — Asher clearly followed through with his suggestion of cleaning it. Farkle flops down onto the bed, familiar and comfortable with the environment after a summer of visiting. Isadora takes a seat by her desk, spinning the chair around to face Farkle. They briefly discuss how good Zay was in the show, before Farkle turns the focus to Isadora.

> **Farkle:** So how was your big week? 

> **Isadora:** Good, actually. I’ve learned that I need to get back onto the skateboard.

A confusing statement for somebody without context. Farkle props himself up on his elbows and frowns at her.

> **Farkle:** I didn’t know you skated.

> **Isadora:** Oh, I don’t. Not at  _ all_.

Farkle watches her with amused bewilderment, glad to see her more upbeat and happy. There’s a soft fondness to his expression, which Isadora catches and squirms at.

> **Isadora:** Stop looking at me like that.

> **Farkle:** Like what?

> **Isadora:** I don’t know. Like... like how Maya looked at my mom.

Farkle snorts at that, sitting up properly now.

> **Farkle:** Nobody will ever look at somebody with as much love and adoration as Maya looked at Valerie.

Isadora looks at Farkle blankly, processing what he just said. She scoffs, but sounds vulnerable when she speaks again.

> **Isadora:** You make it sound like  _ you _ love  _ me_. Or something.

Shock flashes across Farkle’s face for a moment, before he smiles and rolls his eyes casually.

> **Farkle:** Of course I love you, you’re one of my best friends. Pretty stupid question for a genius to ask.

To break the heaviness, Farkle reaches to spin Isadora’s desk chair, making her laugh. She grabs a book off her desk and throws it at him in retaliation, which he just dodges with a yelp.

> **Farkle:** _ [ shaking his head ] _ Is this the way you treat your best friends? I understand why Lucas is angry all the time now.

> **Isadora:** Shut up, Icarus.

They look at each other with matching goofy smiles, before Farkle surprises Isadora by launching one of the ratty old stuffed animals on her bed at her. She bursts out laughing as she picks up another book as her weapon of choice.

**INT. CHUBBIES - NIGHT**

Riley, Lucas, Dylan and Asher have regrouped at Chubbies, able to be there late at night thanks to Lucas’s access to the keys. They’re sitting by couple in the usual booth, chatting about the final week and splitting milkshakes. Even though she won’t be back at school for the first day to avoid the hectic energy, overall, the boys declare their efforts with Isadora a massive success.

> **Lucas:** Well done, spaghetti and pickle.

> **Dylan:** Aye, aye.

Riley grins at them, then takes a moment to speak. She claims they have no idea what the coming year is going to be, but they’ve got each other. And she has this feeling, faith maybe, that it’s going to be good. Really good. Dylan nods in approval, and Lucas too, though his perspective is a little less rosy.

> **Lucas:** Don’t see how it could be any worse than everything else we’ve already endured.

> **Asher:** _ [ rolling his eyes, to Riley and Lucas ]  _ You two really are the epitome of glass half-full, half-empty.

Lucas shrugs, maintaining his unimpressed expression. Riley beams brighter, leaning closer to him and nudging his side. That, he can’t help but crack a smile at. Then she raises the milkshake glass, lightly, and proclaims a toast.

> **Riley:** To us, and our last summer.

> **Dylan:** And the beginning of the rest of our lives.

I’ll cheers to that! Asher and Riley clink the glasses together.

**INT. AAA - HALLWAYS - DAY**

And just like that, it’s back to Triple A! Dave Williams and NICK YOGI do their usual routine of wishing us an enthusiastic welcome back to AAA on behalf of the A/V club, which they’re truly resurrecting this year. The mood is nowhere near as somber as the previous year, excitement palpable in the halls for the senior A class.

> **Dave:** We’re back, thotties, for senior year.

> **Yogi:** Something that is essentially guaranteed to be a wild ride.

> **Dave:** We’re bigger. We’re better. We’re feral in the looming shadow of great change.

> **Yogi:** It can only be batshit, especially now that the A class is in charge.

> **Dave:** Can’t wait to see what happens!

Me either, Dave. Me either. We’re on the move, Dave and Yogi jogging past Maya at her locker to go get more footage.

She’s dressed in the Riley-chosen outfit, although she did her best to glam it up by adding a beret to the look and making her blonde locks pin-straight. DARBY WINTERS and SARAH CARLSON approach her, the former eagerly giving her a hug and saying it’s good to see her again. She missed her this summer! Sarah focuses on her outfit, snorting.

> **Sarah:** Who picked your outfit, Hart? Sherlock Holmes?

> **Maya:** _ [ with a flip of her hair ]  _ I’m a woman of my word, Carlson, and that’s all you need to know. Besides, I’m going for a little bit of a Euro-flair.

> **Darby:** I think it looks great.

> **Maya:** You’re so sweet, Darbs. Misguided, but sweet.

Down the hall, Riley is attempting to adjust to her new look as well. She shrugs off her denim jacket with florals painted on the back that she used to get out of the house without being killed by Cory, obviously nervous about sporting this sleek look.

It’s impossible not to look at her though -- especially for Lucas James Friar. He comes to join her, slowing his approach when he sees the way she’s dressed. His eyebrows shoot up.

> **Lucas:** Wow.

> **Riley:** I know. It’s so… ah. _ [ making a face ] _ And I had to basically smuggle myself out of the house, but Maya said I can only wear my jacket when there’s a chance my dad will see, even though I look so, like…

> **Lucas:** No, no, I didn’t mean -- it’s not bad. It looks, uh… you look good.

> **Riley, hopeful:** … really?

> **Lucas:** Yes. Yeah. _ [ clearing his throat ]  _ I was kind of hoping to go through my life not owing Maya Hart for anything, but…

Oh. Well that’s a very different kind of “wow.” Lucas subtly looks her over again, tentatively resting his hand on her waist. Riley regains some of that confidence she had in the mirror from his approval, biting back a smile. It seems like he might lean closer to kiss her…

When they’re interrupted, Farkle oblivious to their romantic tension as he sidles up on Riley’s other side and greets them pointedly. Lucas retracts his hand and swallows his cocktail of emotions, cutting a glare at Farkle. Riley is more friendly as she returns his greeting, spinning to face him with a smile.

> **Riley:** You seem like you’re in better spirits.

> **Farkle:** Let’s just say I found a way to… let off some steam.

Farkle and Lucas exchange a knowing look. It goes over Riley’s head, who is distracted when Zay wanders over to join their little grouping.

> **Riley:** There he is! Our A class celebrity.

> **Zay:** Riley, please, no dramatics.  _ [ grinning ]  _ But you’re not wrong. Though I’m not the one  _ dressed _ like one. Damn, Miss M. Where has this been for the last three years?

Riley preens a bit, obviously pleased with the praise of her friends. Though Zay claims he’s got some new bling as well, showing off his new Adams class ring. It’s gold-banded, with his birthstone nestled in the center, a regal red ruby. He also explains that his initials are inscribed on the inside. Riley loves it, but again he defers and states _she_ is the looker today.

> **Maya:** And I’ll take credit for that, thank you very much.

Maya joins them, coming to stand with Farkle and completing their little gathering. It’s insane, honestly, seeing them all interact casually and mostly amicably. Maya brings the conversation back around to the point Dave and Yogi made upon our return -- it’s their school now, bitches.

It’s an empowering thought… for a moment. Their idealized comeback is disrupted by a few underclassmen rushing through the halls, making an eerie yet somewhat excited declaration. _She’s coming! She’s here!_

The seniors exchange bewildered looks, but they don’t have to wait long for clarity. A reminder of that new factor they almost blissfully forgot makes itself known in the most bombastic way possible. As the opening horns blare…

* * *

**Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Confident” as performed by Demi Lovato || Performed by Missy Bradford**

Oh, that’s right. _She’s here._ MISSY BRADFORD is back, as rich, alluring, and privileged as ever. She looks essentially the same as when we last saw her, only her hair is cut to her shoulders now -- though still equally luscious. We pan up from her heeled boots and over her expensive ensemble until she launches into the number, coming in to conquer.

And, to be fair, she’s a decent performer. She’s no diva in terms of talent, but her personality and assertiveness make up for the skill she lacks. She tears up the scenery and messes with underclassmen as she marches on, pulling some in as back-up dancers and simply flirting with other male students.

Our crew of seniors are less won over, still remembering the circus that got her into the school in the first place. A shot hangs on their reactions during the number, a combination of disdain, apprehension, and affront. Lucas is definitely unenthused. Zay and Riley look particularly disturbed, while Maya cocks her head and assesses this new bitch who might think she has a chance of being a threat.

Even so, a banging performance is a banging performance. Ah, to be back at AAA…

* * *

**INT. AAA - ATRIUM - DAY**

Missy isn’t the only new face arriving at Adams on that last first day. Jack and Eric are waiting in the atrium to greet their new coworker. Jack is shifting nervously, Eric reaching out and touching his shoulder to keep him from jittering so much.

> **Eric:** You’re making me seasick.

Jack glares at him, but only after he glances at his hand on his shoulder. He doesn’t get the chance to respond, their guests arriving at exactly that moment. EVELYN RAND, looking professional but unique as always in a fun colorful pantsuit, grins as she makes her entrance with a fellow school board employee in tow. She greets both of them with light embraces, stating it’s always a pleasure to see them.

Then, she introduces their new colleague, HARRISON YANCY. He’s a large, sharply dressed man in his 70s, exuding traditional authority. He shakes their hands, but doesn’t offer the warmth that their boss Evelyn does. As she explains it, he’ll be joining them as an administrative consultant of sorts, monitoring the school for the year to see how things go.

Yes, that is exactly what they don’t want… but nothing to be done about it now. Eric takes control once the introductions are done, charm up as high as he can turn it.

> **Yancy:** Quite a fine institution you have here.

> **Eric:** We know, and we take it’s maintenance quite seriously. And you haven’t seen the best of it -- all you had the pleasure of seeing was this lovely atrium and our lecture hall. Please, allow me to give you both a quick tour. I know you’ve already seen it, Evelyn…

> **Evelyn:** Oh, I never pass up a good tour. Lead the way, Eric. I do hope we get to see the cafeteria. I heard about that renovation you all were planning for the mosaic tiles on the wall, and I’ve been dying of curiosity…

Eric kicks off their walkabout, Yancy examining everything with a critical eye while Evelyn keeps up lively chatter. Eric glances over his shoulder before they disappear from sight, shooting Jack a reassuring thumbs up.

Well, no turning back now. Jack releases a sigh, returning back to the front office.

> **Riley, pre-lap:** This place is insane. How do you keep everything in order like this?

**INT. AAA - PROP LOFT - DAY**

Riley is up in the prop loft with Asher, who is starting his first day inventory and tidying up. Not that anything would’ve even moved over the summer, but still, he does what he needs to do. He’s meticulously arranging while Riley meanders the shelves, actually getting a good look at the props on display.

> **Asher:** I take my position seriously, that’s how. With effort comes organization, and with organization comes control. And when things are in control, then nothing can go wrong.

> **Riley:** That’s a nice idea. Triple A could use some control.

> **Asher:** If the prop loft wants to descend into disarray, it can do it when I’m dead.

Well, or like, graduated. Riley smiles, shaking her head. She focuses back on the shelves, raising her eyebrows at a sticky note stuck to the cubbyhole of one of the more sizable props. It’s not in Asher’s handwriting like most of them, instead scribbled in Dylan’s messy chicken scratch.

_FRAGILE!! Treat her with respect or bear the fury of Asher Lupe Garcia!!!! AND SATAN!!_

The prop under such divine protection is a clock, ornate and beautifully carved but obviously delicate. The attention to detail is astounding, and it’s clearly cared for with a lot of love.

> **Riley:** I didn’t realize you all had Satan on speed dial.

Asher looks at her like _what the fuck_ , until he sees what she’s looking at. He rolls his eyes playfully, coming over to join her.

> **Asher:** It’s my favorite prop. Has been since I got here, but we haven’t had a production that it would fit. Guess that’s for the best, since it’s pretty fragile -- hence the warning.

> **Riley:** Yes, Dylan clearly has strong feelings about its protection.

> **Asher:** Yeah, but I’m sure you can guess who almost accidentally broke it first…

Though the comment isn’t exactly complimentary, Asher is smiling fondly as he reads over Dylan’s note again. Then he focuses on the clock, explaining that he tries his best to keep it in shape. That includes keeping the hands functional, which he does by gently pushing the hands counterclockwise back towards the 3.

He has this thing about where the hands are. He never lets them get too close to striking 12. It just started as a habit somewhere in freshman year, but now it’s kind of like a sacred ritual.

> **Riley, amused:** I thought you weren’t superstitious.

> **Asher:** I’m not! _ [ off her giggle ]  _ This is OCD, not mythos.

Maybe so, but there might be some subconscious reasoning too that he hasn’t taken the time to unpack. And he won’t be doing so today either. Riley lets it go, lightly nudging the hands further backwards in time while Asher goes back to work.

**EXT. AAA - LUNCH COURTYARD - DAY**

Time is of no concern to Maya, who is sprawled on top of one of the outdoor lunch tables. She’s leaning back on her palms, tilting her head up to absorb the sunshine before they go back into the school for a full day of AAA chaos. Farkle is seated on the bench below her, checking his watch intermittently to make sure they don’t miss class.

He claims it’s weird without Isadora there, to which she responds that now he knows how weird it was when he was gone after his attempt. It’s not right when one of them isn’t there -- they make up AAA, you know. Their personalities. It’s a pretty sentimental comment for Maya Hart, but she breezes past it a moment later.

> **Maya:** Besides, she made the right move ditching today. If Bradford’s little display was any indication, we’re in for a chaotic year. Better for her to take the extra day to prepare for it, maybe the rest of us will simmer down after the first day buzz.

Farkle agrees. He asks what she thought about Missy, like if they should be concerned, but Maya simply scoffs. She is _not_ concerned about that privileged vixen. Maya has been the top bitch at AAA, in their class, for three years.

> **Maya:** No old-money spoiled brat is going to swoop in and take that away. She can try -- but she’ll fail.

Here’s the bottom line: this is their year, for real this time. She may have been displaced emotionally last year, with his whole thing and her mom being relocated -- who she misses terribly, despite how aloof she’s acting about the whole thing -- but this year they’re stronger than that. It’s their turf, Farkle, and it’s _their_ year.

> **Maya:** Mark my words, Farkle --

> **Farkle:** You sure do have a lot of them…

> **Maya:** This year belongs to us. And you and I? We’re going to get everything we want.

**INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY**

The A class assembles for their first performance lab of senior year, cheerful greetings and hugs being exchanged for those who haven’t had the chance to catch up yet.

Zay is up on stage with HARPER BURGESS, the latter complimenting him once again on an excellent show in _West Side Story_. She knew he had it in him. He’s clearly grateful for the belief, reminding her that he wouldn’t have found out about the opportunity if it weren’t for her. He thanks her for looking out for him. She pats his shoulder, nodding him back down to the seats.

Then she gathers the class, welcoming them back for their senior year. She can feel their excitement even from up on stage. SHAWN HUNTER jogs on stage to join her, but lets her stay in control, having finally figured out their co-teaching balance.

After pointing out that they have old and new faces joining them this year -- a few glances cutting to Missy seated contently on her own in their midst, unbothered -- Harper goes on to explain what the year is going to be like. There’s a lot in store for them this year, and it’s going to be full of hard work. The senior showdown, college applications, emotional highs and lows… but it’s going to be fun too. And enriching, full of growth, as every year at AAA is. There’s very little doubt about that.

As she starts to discuss performances, Maya raises her hand, though she doesn’t wait to be addressed. She happily declares that she and Farkle have actually prepared something for the first performance of the year, so no need to ask for volunteers. They’ve got it covered.

> **Nate:** No one asked.

Actually, Harper starts, they already have someone performing first. That’s what she was just about to explain. This student requested the opportunity to come back with a flourish, since she’s got a lot of catching up to do. Maya is stunned, wondering who already undercut her senior year triumphs.

And she doesn’t wait long to find out. The moment Harper vacates the stage, the jaunty orchestration starts, and suddenly a powerful mezzo soprano voice is filling the auditorium.

* * *

**Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Anything Goes / Anything You Can Do” as performed by Glee Cast || Performed by Chai Fresco**

A set piece turns to reveal CHAI FRESCO, back from her year abroad in London. She’s bolder, blonder, and delivers a stunningly strong rendition of the selected mash-up. For someone who effectively blended into the background for all of sophomore year, enough to pull off what she did, she must have been holding back _a lot_.

Because she’s good. Damn good, delivering the message the performance signals loud and clear. _Anything you can do, I can do better…_

In the audience, the A class is watching in dumbstruck shock. Some people, like the techies, clearly forgot Chai existed. But for the performers -- especially the divas, like Zay, Farkle, and Maya -- her return is a loud and unwanted wake-up call. Just because they’re all chummy now, there’s still competition, now more than ever before. They take the vocals that argue with Chai about whether or not she can outshine them.

And in this moment, she does. She throws her arms out wide and delivers the final resounding notes, shattering the finale. Maya, Farkle, and Zay stare at her with their mouths dropped open. Riley grimaces, knowing this can only mean drama. Next to her, Lucas tries to hide a laugh behind his hand.

Now we’re _really_ back. As for what this year holds, well, we obviously can’t get too comfortable.

Anything goes!

**_END OF EPISODE._ **


	5. Almost There [ 3.02 ]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> HOW FAR THEY’LL GO – Senior year truly kicks off. The A class begins to ponder their futures beyond AAA, though few have it all figured out, and someone has no plan at all. Charlie adjusts to the high expectations of Haverford.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ( Follow along with the music on Spotify [here](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/17qHHA7v0GQbxmmKZa10Hv?si=-1x_9vv1RySKFUuJcEfY_g)! )

**EXT. NEW YORK CITY - NIGHT**

**Song Cue ♫ ♪ “The Second Star to the Right” from** _**Peter Pan** _ **|| Performed by AAA Seniors**

The grand orchestral swell takes us into the episode, the A class skillfully harmonizing over the beautiful night sky. The style emulates the old-fashioned full choirs that underscored many classic animated films in the mid-20th century, only the voices are familiar even when blended.

Panning down from the sky, we look over Manhattan, lights still twinkling as the city that never sleeps buzzes on through the night. Easing in, we weave our way past scenery, buildings, and city streets, setting the scene the same way many Disney films do. On the search for our protagonists amidst the pretty landscape…

**INT. BABINEAUX HOME - ZAY’S BEDROOM - NIGHT**

And we find them as the lyrics truly begin, starting with ZAY BABINEAUX. He’s just finishing hanging up his signed poster of _West Side Story_ , having found the perfect place for it on his poster & playbill wall. He looks at it wistfully, obviously not ready for the experience to be over… but then he glances to his pamphlet for Turner Academy stuck onto the wall.

The show might be over, but he isn’t. Onto the next great thing. He smiles.

_The dreams you plan really can come true..._

**INT. MINKUS HOME - NIGHT**

FARKLE MINKUS is reclined on the living room couch reading _Pride & Prejudice_, still Isadora’s copy with all her annotations. In the armchair nearby, URI MINKUS works on his laptop with his headphones on. Not exactly social, but still sharing the space with his brother rather than hiding away.

STUART MINKUS comes by to tell them goodnight, giving Farkle a loving pat on the shoulder. Farkle gives him a smile, then goes back to his book.

**INT. ERIC’S APARTMENT - KITCHEN - NIGHT**

ISADORA DE LA CRUZ is up and moving, fiddling with the tea kettle. She pours two cups and then carefully carries them over to the table, where ERIC MATTHEWS is hunched over work. He seems surprised when Isadora hands him a cup, but very grateful. They exchange smiles as she slides into the chair opposite him, both quietly sipping their drinks.

**INT. MATTHEWS APARTMENT - MASTER BEDROOM - NIGHT**

The solo on the bridge belongs to RILEY MATTHEWS, seated in the small window seat. She looks out the window dreamily, singing to the twinkling stars. Behind her, MAYA HART painstakingly adjusts her senior year moodboard.

**INT. GARCIA HOME - ASHER’S BEDROOM - NIGHT**

The mood is cozy for ASHER GARCIA and DYLAN ORLANDO, both crashed on Asher’s bed as they typically spend each night. Dylan looks like he’s half-asleep, but the two of them keep up a lazy, quiet conversation as he drifts off. He says something silly and Asher cracks up, Dylan smiling drowsily.

_And when our journey is through, each time we say goodnight…_

**EXT. GARDNER HOME - CHARLIE’S BALCONY - NIGHT**

CHARLIE GARDNER is completing a different kind of ritual, wrapping up a quiet prayer. He’s seated out on his balcony, leaning back against the white-columned railing and hands resting clasped together against his knees. What he’s asking for -- wishing for -- isn’t clear, but he whispers it all to himself with clear intent.

When he finishes, he tilts his head back and lifts his gaze to the sky. Up to the stars that shine, and whatever waits beyond them. Then he shuts his eyes, letting out a sigh.

**EXT. CHUBBIES - NIGHT**

Through the windows to the beloved diner, we watch LUCAS JAMES FRIAR bus tables. He wipes down the surface and tosses the washcloth over his shoulder, far too busy to be wishing on stars. Yet, somehow, he finds himself drawn towards them anyway, pausing in his work for a moment to look out at the night.

A moment of contemplation, then back to work. Lucas grabs the tray of dirty dishes and heads back behind the counter, leaving the storefront vacant.

The camera pans back up above Chubbies and to the Manhattan skyline as the A class dwindles out their last melodious hums. Back to the stars…

* * *

**EXT. NEW YORK CITY - DAY**

Which transitions to daylight as the city comes to life for another day. The music becomes a symphony of hustle and bustle, New York’s true sonata.

> **Maya, pre-lap:** It’s senior year, mama. This is when our dreams come true.

**EXT. NEW YORK CITY STREETS - DAY**

Maya is strutting down the street on her way to school, on the phone with Katy. She tells her mother all about her grand plans for the year, in spite of the sudden obstacles that may have arisen on their first day.

Katy questions how exactly Maya plans to accommodate those unexpected changes -- she’s not going to cause trouble with Chai and the Bradford girl, is she? Maya waves off the concern, reassuring her that they’re hardly an issue. Just a speck on her otherwise perfect plans, which she’s had since the beginning of time. Proud as Katy is of her fortitude, she warns her not to be too hard-headed… and expresses disappointment that she can’t be there to see it all.

This pokes at Maya’s impenetrable facade a bit. She almost trips in a subway grate, shaking off the surprise and agreeing with Katy. She wishes she could be there, too, but for now this is what they’ve got. And while it wasn’t easy, she thinks they made the right choice finding ways for her to stay and finish out senior year. Can’t complete her plan without it. And besides…

> **Maya, theatrically:** Where would I rather be than Triple A?

**INT. ERIC’S APARTMENT - KITCHEN - DAY**

Isadora, on the other hand, seems less gung-ho to be heading back to AAA. After skipping the first day, today is a bigger day than usual for her. She finishes the last of her cereal and gets up to put the bowl in the dishwasher. Eric looks up from where he’s packing his briefcase nearby.

> **Eric:** Feeling ready for your first day back?

> **Isadora:** No. I feel sick. Maybe I should take another day?

> **Eric:** If you really don’t feel up to it, fine. But you know it’ll only get more difficult the longer you put it off.

Isadora sighs. He’s right, she knows. But it doesn’t make it any easier. His briefcase now fully packed, Eric walks over to where Isadora is and places a comforting hand on her shoulder.

> **Eric:** All your teachers know the situation, and have agreed that you can leave class whenever you feel overwhelmed without asking them. And my office is always open for you to take a breather in, whether I’m there or not. You’re not facing this alone.

The sentiment touches her. When she looks back up, her eyes are brimmed with tears, but she nods. Eric squeezes her shoulder with a smile before saying farewell and heading off to work. Now on her own, Isadora wanders over to the window that overlooks the city. She perches on the arm of the couch, looking out at the world below.

**INT. MINKUS HOME - DAY**

Isadora’s visage through the window fades to match Farkle, mirroring her as he gazes out the wall of windows in his living room. For all the ways his mental health has improved, he still has moments like this where he seems to tune out, lost somewhere else… but he snaps out of it when his father enters with his briefcase.

He’s on his way out for a business meeting, stating he’ll be taking the family car. If Farkle needs another, he can call one for him…

> **Farkle:** That’s fine. Think I’ll walk today.

Stuart seems surprised -- Adams is basically on the opposite end of town -- but Farkle’s energy is a positive sign. He smiles, wishing him a good day and stating that it’s great to see him out and experiencing life again. Maybe things will start to feel a bit normal again, after all this.

> **Stuart:** Although I’m sure it will be hard to leave the luxurious and cozy accommodations we have here at home to go back out into the concrete jungle.

> **Farkle:** _ [ with a thin smile ]  _ Nice and cozy and safe, certainly.

Stuart beams, nodding a goodbye as he heads out. Once the door closes, Farkle’s smile fades somewhat, back to his usual pensive expression.

> **Farkle:** My very own padded cell.

He gets to his feet, going to grab his bag from his room. As the orchestration floats in…

* * *

**Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Out There” from** _**The Hunchback of Notre Dame** _ **|| Performed by Farkle Minkus (starting at 1:35)**

Farkle reemerges with his things and starts to head out, but he finds himself looking towards the windows again. He gazes down below at the people coming and going as he starts to sing, commenting on how the Minkus home has felt like his Notre Dame, protective and high above it all, but isolating. So, so isolating.

As the music starts to pick up momentum Farkle picks up speed, heading out of the apartment.

**INT. MINKUS HOME - HALLWAY - DAY**

Farkle catches the elevator and darts inside, hitting the first floor. The music swells with his declaration of _“not above them… but part of them…”_ the elevator doors sliding closed, but not before we see a smile bloom across his face.

**EXT. MINKUS INTERNATIONAL - DAY**

Then he bursts out through the doors, smile bright on his face as he jogs down the steps. He breathes in the fresh air and soaks up the sunlight, downright giddy to be back in the world. In _his_ world at that, the strange and surreal and splendid New York City.

He starts an excited jog up the streets, eager to get going.

**EXT. NEW YORK STREETS - DAY**

Farkle rushes through the crowded streets, absorbing all of the chaos and charm and characters that surround him. He makes it to Time Square and bounds up the steps outside TKTS, making it to the top and taking in the view around him. He milks the dramatic belting for all its worth, finally feeling back in top shape. _This_ is the Farkle Minkus we know and love!

_If I was in their skin, I’d treasure every instant!_

Farkle throws out his arms and spins back around, jogging down and continuing his journey to school. People are staring as he goes, but he doesn’t care. There’s an unbridled whimsy to his commute, enamored with life and the beautiful calamity that is his city.

**EXT. AAA - DAY**

Finally, Farkle makes it back in front of Adams for the finale. He stamps his foot and stands his ground on the steps of his school, belting the last note with everything he’s got. This, in all honesty, feels like the true return to _AMBITION_ form.

* * *

Then the school bell rings, startling him out of his diva moment. He grimaces, spinning around and sprinting up the steps.

_**Cue title sequence.** _

**INT. AAA - ATRIUM - DAY**

Isadora stands with Riley and Maya, towards the side of the atrium, away from the gaggle of students filling the space. Farkle enters and spots the girls, jogging over to them. Maya is already in the midst of a long-winded monologue about the drama Isadora missed and the new bitch contenders. Farkle leans over to murmur to Isadora.

> **Farkle:** Good to have you back. Yesterday was odd without you here.

Isadora smiles, not sure what to say. Before she can find it, Riley and Maya greet Farkle, looping them back into the conversation.

> **Maya:** You’re just in time. I was explaining to Riley and Izzy how over the whole Chai thing I am. I’m the bigger person, and I shall move past it.

> **Farkle:** So does this mean you won’t be monologuing over the  _ audacity _ of her stealing the first performance anymore?

> **Riley:** Count yourself lucky you don’t live with her. She was ranting about it all evening.

Isadora doesn’t participate in the conversation, and doesn’t even look like she’s fully aware of what they’re saying. Her attention is instead on the soundscape of the atrium, students chatting and walking around. The familiar but out of place click of stiletto heels on the floor cuts through the noise, but when Isadora turns towards the entryway, there’s nobody there. She shakes her head and takes a deep breath, centering herself.

When she refocuses on her friends, Riley has already moved onto the next topic, questioning where Isadora is supposed to go first. When she goes “huh,” Riley repeats the question.

> **Riley:** Where are you starting today? I mean, are you coming with us to the black box for check-in, or going to the techie morning meeting?

> **Isadora:** Oh. I, uh… I don’t know, actually.

> **Riley:** At least, I think they’re having a meeting. I don’t know, my intel is Lucas, and he isn’t even planning on going. Dylan’s in charge now, so…

**INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY**

Sure is, Riley! Dylan has the rolling whiteboard and is holding court, using Asher’s unfolded pocket comb as a pointer. He slaps it against the whiteboard, drawing their attention to what he has written on the board -- _“The Ten Dyl Commandments.”_

> **Nate:** Is this bible study? Aw, and right after Gardner left…

JEFF MONROE and DAVE WILLIAMS laugh at NATE MARTINEZ’s commentary, though they shake their heads too. Ouch. JADE BEAMON rolls her eyes, sitting cross-legged on the floor with a pin in her mouth. She’s already back to work, costuming what looks like a silky gown.

> **Dylan:** This is no time for jokes, Marinate. We’ve got a lot of work to do! I’m calling the shots now, and I’ve got a  _ lot _ of ideas. Hence --

He slaps the pocket comb against the list again, the items hidden behind taped up pieces of paper. Asher cringes at the comb abuse, lifting his hand as if to halt it.

Thankfully, Dylan is no longer pointing. He’s moved onto explaining the commandments, revealing the first one by dramatically ripping down the paper.

> **Dylan:** Number one! “Uplift your underlings.”

> **Dave, nervous:** Oh my God, am I showing? _ [ craning his neck to check his backside ] _ I swear I put my belt on right this morning --

> **Jeff:** Underling, Dave, not under  _ things_.

> **Nate:** Means lackeys.

> **Jade, to Asher:** You need to take the thesaurus from him.

> **Dylan:** That is  _ one _ definition, but it also means “juniors.” Those below us -- in this case, the underclassmen. We’re going to mentor them.

> **Nate:** You’re joking, man. You want us to chill with a bunch of freshies? Let alone  _ techie _ freshies? Isn’t being stuck with each other punishment enough?

> **Dylan:** When we were freshmen, wouldn’t it have been nice to have people to look up to who knew what they were doing?

> **Jeff:** We know what we’re doing?

> **Dylan:** Someone to guide them, to answer their questions… to help us do manual labor each production so it’s not just eight or so people doing every single thing by ourselves.

> **Dave:** Okay, that sounds nice.

> **Jeff:** For them and for us.

> **Jade:** Would be good to have some help carrying this school.

> **Dylan:** Sure would! Which brings me to my second point --

Dylan whips off the second paper.

> **Dylan:** Numero dos! “Thou shalt learn to costume.”

> **Jade:** _ Oh_?

> **Nate / Dave / Jeff:** _ No_!

_Yes_ , Dylan decrees! This year, they will all be learning to costume so they can lend a hand to Jade when the going gets tough. She’s dynamite, and she’s been making killer costumes for three years, but she shouldn’t have to do it all on her own. They’ve got to at least learn the basics, so when she’s mass producing she can call upon her boys to do the grunt work.

Jade clearly loves this idea. The boys, not so much. Nate groans dramatically, leaning back in his chair and dropping his head back.

> **Dylan:** Just like how we will help our juniors, we will help our sister. She makes us look good, and the least we can do is aid her in that endeavor. And speaking of looking good --

Dylan reveals the third commandment, written in big block letters. _NO BLACK CLOTHES!_

> **All:** What?!

> **Jeff:** That literally doesn’t make sense. During productions --

> **Dylan:** Yes, yes, I know. During productions, we have to wear black to blend in and do our sneaky, sneaky technical things. But  _ otherwise _ , black is  _ out _ ! No more drab, dour energy in the crew. I want  _ colors_! I want  _ brightness_! I want a funky pattern or two!

> **Nate:** Thank God Lucas isn’t here.

> **Dylan:** If we dress for colorful success, then we will achieve it. That’s the energy for this year. As the wise, exalted Asher Lupe Garcia once said, “presentation matters.” You know, like he says when he tries to comb my hair.

> **Asher:** _ [ eyeing him waving the pocket comb around ]  _ Yeah, speaking of…

So they will be colorful and full of personality this year. NO EXCEPTIONS! Which brings him to his last point, as he rips the last paper off the white board. _STAN ASHER GARCIA._

> **Nate:** Wow, I’m  _ shocked_.

> **Jeff:** That’s only four. I thought there were ten.

> **Dylan:** _ Actually_... that’s all I’ve got.  _ [ smacking the white board again ]  _ But I mean them! Memorize ‘em, boys -- and Jade.

> **Jade:** Oh, I’m memorized. See you in the costume loft, Nate.

> **Nate:** Only if you’re planning on giving me a kiss.

> **Jade:** I am, I am… the kiss of death. By needle.

All jokes aside, Asher brings them back together and reiterates what theme underscores all of Dylan’s commandments -- support. This year is about lifting each other up, strengthening their community, and giving those who come after them a foundation to build on. Leaving the place better than when they found it.

They can get behind that. Nate admits that’s a pretty dope mindset to go in with… he _guesses_. Dave loves it, claiming it also means that they’ll be spending more time as a team. Gotta get as much of that in as possible while they can, while they’re all still here together.

> **Jeff:** And Dylan’s right, we’ve got to have each other’s backs. We’re the only ones who ever have at this school. I think it’ll be good to pass that on to the next generation -- especially with a lead tech like Shawn.

> **Asher:** Well, you know, we can give him a  _ little _ credit. He did start to show up a little more last year… who knows? Maybe he’ll be more on top of it this year.

**INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - MOMENTS LATER**

The senior A class has taken the seats in the front and center section, SHAWN HUNTER and HARPER BURGESS now on stage. We cut abruptly to Shawn, expression bright and stammering over his words as he attempts to make a surprise announcement.

> **Shawn:** Angela’s -- she’s got -- I’m gonna be -- we’re having a baby! I’m gonna have a real actual baby!

Wow! Great news! But definitely not what you want a “focused” teacher to say. Asher makes a face from his seat next to Dylan, who’s got his arm around his shoulders. He leans back to whisper to the rest of the technicians.

> **Asher:** (: Forget I said anything…

Harper takes over for Shawn, congratulating him before shifting the focus back to classwork. She explains the assignment for the week, which is all about planning for their futures -- though not as stressfully or darkly as check-in week.

> **Farkle:** Yeah, no worries, I’m 98% sure I won’t kill myself this time.

A mixed bag of reactions, some laugh while others groan. Farkle smiles plainly, obviously not bothered either way.

Harper chooses not to acknowledge his statement, moving past it with optimism. This week isn’t about getting bogged down in the past or feeling overwhelmed by the future. No, this week is about dreaming _big_ , thinking about what they want, and then considering how they’re going to get there in the span of the next year. It’s not the time to undercut themselves, but to really imagine everything that they could be.

Like Farkle’s aside, the assignment elicits mixed reactions. Some, like Maya, Zay, and Riley, seem energized by the potential of the future. Others, notably Lucas and Isadora, are less so.

**INT. HAVERFORD PREP - LECTURE HALL - DAY**

A similar conversation is happening across the park at Haverford, only it’s being delivered assembly style. The seniors are assembled in the mahogany folding seats, listening as AARON JACKSON stands at the podium on stage and lectures. He’s encouraging them to plan accordingly for their college applications, what things they should consider and all of the options laid out before them as a student at Haverford Prep.

There’s a variety of investment amongst these boys as well. DWEEZIL HOWARD pays rapt attention and EVAN SCOTT takes notes. But BRANDON RIVAS seems bored, letting his gaze drift around the room idly. Next to him, BILLY ROSS plays a preserved version of Flappy Bird on his phone.

Brandon’s eyes settle on Charlie, seated a couple rows in front of them. He seems pointedly less at ease than the rest of them, intimidated by the lecture content. And can’t fault him on that -- the emphasis is far more on achievement and high standards than Adam’s dream big approach. Aaron reminds them about all of the spectacular alumni they’ve had walk the halls before them, and projects a list of all the high-ranking Ivy Leagues and elite arts colleges they’ve sent students to just in the last ten years.

It’s a daunting, impressive list. Charlie stares at it, leg bouncing nervously. He taps out a rhythm on the collapsable desk. _One, and two, and three, and four; one, and two, and three…_

**INT. AAA - DANCE STUDIO - DAY**

The rhythm becomes the tempo for Zay, who is running through a routine on his own in his usual studio. It’s rough around the edges, obviously something he’s just starting to put together, but it still looks good. Considering he’s the one dancing it, that’s no surprise.

Harper pokes her head in the doorway, watching the tail end of his run-through. He spins out of it and shakes his head, muttering to himself about how the last few steps don’t transition the way he wants. He immediately starts to rerun that sequence but Harper halts him, grabbing his attention by speaking.

> **Harper:** Already back on it with a vengeance, I see. Just three days after closing a professional production.

Zay grins, shrugging. He claims there’s no time for rest in show business. Harper asks what he’s already so deep into working on, Zay’s excitement growing. He gestures her over and opens a window on his laptop set up on the piano, pulling up the web page for his ideal college program -- the elite dance academy at the Turner school, a branch of the New York College of the Arts.

> **Zay:** It’s  _ the _ premiere program for dance, particularly in the Northeast. They send alumni to the Broadway stage all the time, and they even have this grad year thing where you join a dance troupe touring to get some real-world experience before you graduate. Not that I don’t have that already, but I mean, it’s just another pro. It’s like a gateway straight to the big leagues.

> **Harper:** Oh, I’m aware. Turner has its reputation for a reason. Anyone in the arts knows it.

> **Zay:** Exactly. And that’s why I’m starting on my audition routine now. I don’t want to waste any time, and I want to get a head start while I’m still fresh off Off-Broadway.

Noble efforts. Zay cares more than anything, there’s no doubt about that, and Harper doesn’t intend to stand in the way of that. However, she takes the chance to suggest that he not forget about right now while he’s busy prepping for the future. Like, by all means, his passion and effort is inspiring. But he should take the time to enjoy senior year and all it has to offer, too.

> **Harper:** You know, kick ass, take names, climb your way to the top. I’m behind you every kick ball change of the way.  _ [ off his scoff ]  _ But take the time to breathe. Smell the roses. Hit the welcome back carnival, give some ridiculous performances on this stage one last time, blow off a rehearsal and kick it with your friends. Believe me, it all flies by faster than you think.

Zay absorbs this, nodding. He says he’ll keep that in mind. She gives him a proud pat on the shoulder, telling him she’ll see him at lab later before she sets him free.

The moment she’s gone, Zay gets back to the routine. He restarts his music and grounds himself, then launches back into the steps again. _One, and two_ \--

**INT. AAA - GIRLS DRESSING ROOM - DAY**

Maya is in the dressing room with DARBY WINTERS and SARAH CARLSON, letting them in on the trajectory for all her grand plans. Darby is listening attentively, brimming with excitement at all of the cool things Maya is going to go on to do. How great that she’s her friend!

> **Maya:** That’s right, Darbs. And I’m going to need you to use that enthusiasm when you vote for me for president. Spread a little bit of that infectious energy to the underclassmen, since you like, hang out with them or whatever.

> **Darby:** Well, it’s technically called being a big sib --

> **Sarah:** _ [ cutting her off ] _ Like you even have to campaign, Maya. You’re the only person I’ve heard who is planning to run, and you’re the classic candidate. I seriously doubt you have any competition -- whether we want another option or not.

Backhanded, but true. Maya flips her hair off her shoulder, shrugging innocently. Yes, competition for _anything_ seems unlikely… until CHAI FRESCO enters the dressing room. Once again reminding us of her unpredictable returned presence in the senior class.

Her adjustment obviously isn’t smooth-sailing. This trio used to be her crew, her circle, and now she’s standing distinctly apart from them. But she offers a smile, greeting them all before going to her spot by the mirrors. Maya eyes her critically, but Darby carries the conversation, not feeling any of the tension and happy to jump right back into friendship. She asks Chai how it feels to be back at AAA. Is it better than London? What did she do across the pond? Oh, and she loves her blonde highlights. They look so cute!

> **Maya:** Yeah, Chai, I didn’t realize you wanted to be a blonde. Wonder where you drew that inspiration from.

> **Chai, smoothly:** Well, you know what they say. Blondes have more fun. Besides, it was time for a change of pace.

> **Sarah:** And going abroad wasn’t change enough?

Chai chooses to address Darby’s earlier questions, expressing that London was excellent. All of them should check out the West End when they get the chance -- maybe they’ll get to if their senior trip ends up being to the UK.

> **Chai:** It’s like, what, down to that and Disney World?

> **Sarah:** What grown adult would choose Disney?

> **Maya, to Chai:** If you liked London so much, then why did you come back?

Oh. Pointed interrogation, Maya. Chai pauses and then expertly side steps, claiming the exchange program was only meant to be a year. She got her year in London while Ellie got her exclusive Adams experience, but now they’re back to the old ways.

> **Darby:** Who’s Ellie?

> **Sarah:** B class.

> **Darby:** Ohh.

As Maya goes on to dig, a lot has changed while Chai was gone. The old ways don’t really exist anymore, but she wouldn’t know that considering she wasn’t here. Chai manages a sharp smile, sparring back and claiming she doesn’t plan to focus on the past. She wants to focus on senior year -- no sense in worrying about things from the past.

**INT. AAA - TECHNICIAN’S BOOTH - DAY**

Lucas is in his usual rolling chair, ignoring the past and also the future while he flips through schematics from former productions. Riley emerges from the stairs and greets him cheerfully, asking him what he’s working on. He explains the binder of blueprints.

> **Lucas:** Basically gotta do this every year. It’s like when I get a break away from this hellhole, all of the theater bullshit that gets force-fed to me falls out of my head.

Look at him, though, making an effort. Riley says as much as she comes to stand near him, leaning back against the lighting board table. He rolls his eyes, which makes her smile. She changes the subject to other things that require effort, like their assignment this week. As she understands it, Eric is going to be holding a future planning seminar specifically with the techies during their last technical workshop period tomorrow. Lucas confirms that fact but doesn’t say anything else, remaining dodgy about discussing the future.

To be fair, Riley didn’t expect him to be otherwise. She brings up something else for him to focus on -- pointedly, the fact that the two of them have _other_ plans for this week. He remembers, right? Lucas assures her he didn’t forget, and though they speak about it in vague terms that don’t give us any hint to what these plans might be, it’s evident that Riley is nervous about them. Seems like they’re both a little avoidant about things they have to face this week.

Two days back into AAA, and they’re already both stressed. Would sure be nice to get away from it all for a little bit… Riley says as much, gently settling onto Lucas’s lap and sliding an arm around his shoulder. He’s definitely not focusing on the schematics anymore.

> **Riley:** With how hectic everything is and all the stuff we’ve got to stress about…

> **Lucas:** Two days. We sure lasted a long time.

> **Riley:** I just think it might be nice to escape it for a little bit. Reward for surviving this hell week… maybe at the hideout?  _ [ tracing her fingers on his arm ] _ Find some of that peace from the summer again...

Yes, okay, message received, Riley. Lucas clears his throat, eyeing her hand on him.

> **Lucas:** Uh… think I could be down with that…

When he meets her eyes again, they exchange shy smiles. She leans forward to give him a quick peck on the forehead, claiming it’s a plan. She climbs back to her feet.

> **Riley:** Oh, but it’ll have to be Saturday. We’ve got the carnival on Friday, especially because Eric roped me into helping with confirming the arrangements.

Riley somewhat explains the concept of the welcome back carnival for us in the audience, about how it’s this long-standing tradition that Adams has with the end-of-summer festival that gets put on down at the pier every year. All of the seniors always get complimentary tickets, so now it’s kind of established that they all go together.

> **Riley:** You know, this school is truly surreal. My old school did not have complimentary traditions like that. Maybe that’s why everyone was so spiteful.

> **Lucas, awkwardly:** Yeah, actually… I don’t think I’m going to go.

Riley is obviously surprised by this, and disappointed. She asks why not, aside from his underworld persona, which doesn’t seem like the most compelling reason not to go spend a memorable night with his friends. Lucas claims it doesn’t have anything to do with that, it’s just that… he has work, and stuff. Perfectly plausible, valid excuse.

And yet, Riley doesn’t buy it. She remains gentle as she counters his argument. warning him that she’s going to be honest with him because that’s how they are with each other.

> **Riley:** I’m not saying that work isn’t a valid reason, and I know you’re taking that seriously. I would never discredit that. But scheduling yourself for closing on the exact night you know there’s something like this planned… to me, it just feels like you’re not letting yourself go. Like you’re… punishing yourself, so you’re not allowed to enjoy any of the good things about this year.

Well… that’s one (apt) perspective. Weird, having someone who can suddenly read you so easily and will say so without hesitation. Lucas can’t refute it, dropping his gaze to the binder to avoid looking at her.

> **Riley:** What for, I don’t know… but I hope you’ll let it go and come around. Or at least think about it. It won’t be as fun without you there.

She gives him one more affectionate touch on the shoulder, then leaves him alone. Lucas sighs, slouching back in his chair.

**EXT. HAVERFORD PREP - DAY**

Brandon is making his way across the courtyard, a senior king in his court. He strolls confidently amidst his fellow students and the scenic campus, nodding and exchanging low-fives with other boys as he goes. Charlie emerges from a building nearby and spots him, jogging to catch up to him. He calls his name, and Brandon doesn’t turn around or wait up, but he slows his pace to allow Charlie to catch up.

> **Charlie:** Do you have a second?

> **Brandon, loftily:** For you, Charles? By all means. I take it you’re adjusting well.

> **Charlie:** Huh? Oh, uh, yeah. I just wanted to -- I had some questions about the assembly this morning.

Trying to find the best way to broach the conversation, Charlie asks Brandon where he’s applying to college. He snorts, raising his eyebrows.

> **Brandon:** You planning on swooping in and stealing my schools?

> **Charlie:** No, no. Trust me, I’m no competition. I just meant like… where do people typically… apply here? I know it’s an arts magnet school, but based on that presentation this morning, it seems kind of… I mean, is there an expectation that people go Ivy? That list Principal Jackson had…

> **Brandon:** Well, always have to put your best foot forward. You know how parents are, showing off their pick of the litter. And in terms of school, Principal Jackson basically is the parental figure. A very laissez-faire one, but the authority nonetheless. Of course he’ll want to highlight his best-in-show.

> **Charlie:** So… is that typical, or --

Brandon slows to a stop, holding up a hand to halt Charlie as well. He nods to a table in the courtyard, where Dweezil and Evan are mingling with some other seniors.

> **Brandon:** Dwight is already gunning for MIT. He had some favorable visits there this summer, and with his grades and test scores he’s likely a full-ride candidate. Not that his family couldn’t afford it, but why pay when you’re brilliant enough not to?

> **Charlie:** Oh… neat.

> **Brandon:** Evan, on the other hand, is shooting for NYU. Tisch, specifically, their performing arts school. I’m sure you know that.

> **Charlie:** I do know some things.

> **Brandon:** Point is, you can consider both of them the wide spectrum of ambition at Haverford. There’s nothing that says you have to be an Ivy Leaguer. Rather than asking what everyone else is doing, Charles, I think you might be better served to follow your own ambitions.

Oh, so it’s about what he _wants_. How sentimental, and not helpful at all. Thanks, Brandon. Charlie hides his reluctance as he thanks him for the advice, Brandon patting him briskly on the shoulder before leaving him alone.

**INT. AAA - COSTUME LOFT - DAY**

Asher is hanging out with Jade, leisurely sorting some of the costumes for the beginning of the year. Well, he is, at least -- Jade is already buried in work, sorting through portfolios and costuming about two different pieces at once.

> **Asher:** How do you already have things to costume? We haven’t even had performances yet, sans Chai’s comeback. I swear, what they’ve got you doing is child labor.

Perhaps. Jade shoots him a look, explaining that this stuff isn’t for AAA. It’s for her college portfolio, which she already started working on over the summer. Sure, the stuff she’s made for them over the years are good samples, but she’s going to need a much larger and diverse body of work to guarantee success. If she wants to get into the top-tier programs or apprentice the best of the best, then she needs to show she’s ready for it.

And as hardworking and commendable as that is, even Asher -- _Asher_ \-- is like girl you need to chill a little bit. Like yes, he understands she wants to present the best of herself, but she’s already way beyond expectations. She doesn’t want to burn out before the year really kicks off, and besides, she should be enjoying the fun of senior year, too. Like Dylan’s color dress code, or watching Chai and Maya murder each other.

> **Jade:** Ah, yes, highlight of my year…

> **Asher:** Like the carnival this weekend. You’re going to that, right?

> **Jade:** Yes, yes, I’m not completely devoid of joy.

> **Asher:** Or what if something unexpected interrupts your work? Like, say a cute, soft-spoken Shakespeare nerd with no backbone comes by and says, “hey, Jade, wanna go grab some lunch?” What are you gonna do then?

> **Jade:** I… um.  _ [ huffing ]  _ That’s dumb. That’s a dumb question.

> **Asher:** More of a hypothetical.

> **Jade:** Tomato, tomato. You’re spending too much time with your boyfriend, his whimsy is sprinkling off on you.

Case in point, Jade avoids humoring the possibility that any Shakespeare nerds would bother her for the time of day like that, or that something could seriously impede her focus on her applications. That’s a problem for later Jade -- or never Jade, more likely.

**INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY**

The performers are scattered across the first couple rows of seats, chatting amiably as they wait for Harper to begin. Maya, Farkle and Isadora sit the furthest back from the stage, but still close enough to be part of the general group.

> **Maya:** I’m so glad you rallied your diva mojo enough to show up, Izzy. I was worried you’d miss all the excitement of the first week of senior year.

Well, that’s one way to put it. Isadora gives a weak smile in response, not as wrapped up in the aforementioned excitement as Maya.

Harper strides onto the stage from the wings, but we once again hear the oddly placed tapping of stilettos. Isadora leans forward in her seat, looking for anyone else in the wings. Maya and Farkle share a look, wondering what she’s looking for.

With a clap of her hands, Harper brings everyone’s attention to her.

> **Harper:** I won’t bore you with another speech about your futures and working hard and the final year of your high school careers. You’ll be able to recite that by the end of the week. But I will say that I’m very happy to see the entirety of the Senior A Class performers in front of me.

A nice sentiment, even with the uncertain presences like Chai and MISSY BRADFORD. Isadora is still on edge, but tries to concentrate on what Harper is saying about what goals they should try to accomplish during this semester.

However, as she speaks, her words morph into an echo of the past -- a memory of another speech given by Harper on the same stage.

> **Harper:** We have a special guest lecturer joining us this week!

Stilettos click, this time attached to a person. VALERIE DE LA CRUZ struts out onto the stage with a sparkling grin and all her usual glamour radiating off her. Well, it’s _sort_ of her. It’s a mirage, a memory rather than the actual late superstar. She’s dressed in a sheer white blouse with an oversized bow on the collar and a tight white pencil skirt, the look somewhat reminiscent of a fairy Godmother, but with a classic Valerie twist.

Isadora’s eyes widen in shock at the sight. She knows it’s not real, that her mind is forcing her to face her memories of Val by making her appear before her, but no matter how many times she tells herself under her breath that it’s not real, Valerie remains on stage, looking down at the students before her with pride.

> **Valerie:** It’s an  _ honor _ to be here with all of you. This year, you’re going to reach your highest heights... but also dig deep.

They’re words we’ve heard before, more or less. Isadora goes pale and grips the arms of her seat; she looks as though she’s about to throw up.

> **Valerie:** My dear, dear dreamers in training, this year will change your lives. And I’m here to make sure your dreams come true!

But she isn’t here. She’ll never be here — anywhere — again. It’s too much for Isadora to bear, so she launches out of her seat and runs away from the memories that she’s been trying to block for months now. Maya and Farkle watch after her in concern, along with a few other performers, including Riley.

On stage, Harper pauses in her speech and watches the door swing shut. She clears her throat and presses on, and Isa’s friends reluctantly turn back to their teacher.

> **Chai, pre-lap:** I didn’t want to bring up the past, but I figured I had to. Couldn’t run from it forever, especially if I want to be back here.

**INT. AAA - JACK’S OFFICE - DAY**

Isadora’s hysteria aside, the mood is muted but quite serious as Chai sits down to meet with JACK HUNTER. That’s because she’s sharing some pretty important information.

> **Chai:** So, yeah. I created and ran the Confessions page. Before I went abroad, I deleted it, and then just tried to forget about it. Wiped the slate clean.

Jack listens carefully, processing this. Finally, after two years, an unsolved case closed… his expression is hard to read as he determines how to react. But Chai seems sincere as she expresses regret.

> **Chai:** But I know it didn’t just go away. It had consequences here -- that I was able to avoid, though unfairly -- and I didn’t mean for all that to happen. I know it wasn’t the right way to handle my own stupid angst. I completely understand if you want to dole out punishment now, and I’ll accept it. I just want it to be clear that I’m past that now, and I don’t intend to behave that way anymore. This year, I just want to focus on the present and doing the best that I can.

A convincing delivery. And her openness to potential consequences sure makes it seem like she understands the severity of what she caused… but it was so long ago. And it’s not like Jack hasn’t let troublesome characters off the hook before. Jack thanks her for her honesty, stating that at this point, punishing her directly would just dredge up old wounds that are best left sewn shut. It’s something that can remain between them, barring Chai’s own choice to tell others. As for punishment, he decides that she can do some “volunteer” work with Janitor Harley to keep the school in top shape. Three times a week, right after school, for the rest of the semester.

> **Chai, relieved:** Sounds fair to me.

> **Jack:** You helped make a major mess before you left. The least you could do would be to help clean up the little ones for a while.

> **Chai:** Totally. Thank you for hearing me out, Principal Hunter. You’re a good administrator.

Tell us something we don’t know, Chai. As she gets up to leave, Lucas appears in the doorway, the two of them eyeing each other warily. Lucas is clearly wondering what the hell she’s doing in there chatting with _his_ faculty mentor, but Chai merely thanks Jack again for his time and slinks her way out.

Lucas asks what that was all about, and Jack claims he knows he can’t just tell him that. Lucas is like well you _could_ … but it’s clear Jack won’t be spilling any time soon. They switch topics instead, Lucas saying he came by to grab some of the paperwork and manuals Jack has from the new equipment they got for the tech booth over the summer.

> **Jack:** And here I thought you were coming by to announce your intent to run for president. That seems like something you’d be interested in, no? Telling everybody what’s wrong with our institution and organizing rebellious efforts to change it.

> **Lucas:** Oh, yeah, civil service and political action is  _ right _ up my alley. Don’t make me laugh.

Jack smirks, but it doesn’t seem like he was entirely kidding. He hands Lucas the papers, and when he starts leafing through them he frowns at a couple of the pages. Lucas claims they’re missing like three of the repairs or upgrades they were supposed to get, specifically on some of the lights. Jack agrees, but unfortunately the part of the budget that was _supposed_ to go to that was reallocated by the student government from last year.

> **Lucas:** To what?

> **Jack:** I believe it was to “upgrade” their senior prom accommodations. A fancy venue is certainly more important than good and safe lighting on stage. Wouldn’t you agree?

From the scowl on his face, Lucas most certainly does not agree. This is why you shouldn’t give teenagers power over money. Or any money at all.

> **Lucas:** Maybe they should live on the poverty line like the rest of us and then they’ll be fine with the fucking Ritz as their backup prom venue.

Though not exactly accurate, Jack has spent enough time with Lucas now that his cussing doesn’t even faze him. Before he can discuss further, Eric rushes into the room and warns Jack of an incoming problem.

Then he spots Lucas, trying to appear more casual as he greets him. Lucas asks if everything is okay, to which both Jack and Eric wave him off, but they subtly nudge him back to class as quickly as possible. Eric cheerfully states he’ll see him at the techie seminar tomorrow afternoon, which is really effective at shooing him out of there.

In the brief moments of solitude they have, Eric gives Jack an update that Yancy is heading over to chat with him. The tour went fine yesterday, and everything, but he gets the feeling the meeting isn’t meant to be pleasant. Jack tries to get more intel out of him, but there’s not enough time, HARRISON YANCY appearing in the doorway and asking if he’s interrupting.

Yancy requests to speak to Jack alone at first, and Eric starts to leave, but Jack declines.

> **Jack:** Eric is as close to a vice principal as we have at Adams. We do much of the work as a team, and he knows more about the ins and outs than anyone. Anything you need to say to me, you can say to him.

Interesting. Eric remains calm, but he’s evidently touched by the statement. Yancy merely raises his eyebrows, but doesn’t argue, launching into speech. He explains that after a thorough examination of the school yesterday, they certainly run a fine institution -- but an institution does not a functional academic ecosystem make. The issues Jack ran into last year were internal, societal, not infrastructure-based. So he’ll be spending the week doing a _thorough_ analysis of the school and how it operates, seeking to identify problems and give Jack the chance to solve them… before they cast final judgment on the status of Adams.

Well, that’s not threatening at all. As professional and cordial as all of them are being, there’s a clear tension in the air as Yancy declares he’ll be keeping a watchful eye out. Jack manages a tight smile.

> **Jack:** Whatever you deem necessary, Harrison. For the good of the students.

**INT. AAA - ERIC’S OFFICE - DAY**

Oh, right. The students. That’s what matters. Though they’re not exactly in the position to be helping them at the moment, Isadora showing up to Eric’s office only to find he’s not there. It feels empty without his sunny personality filling the space.

She sits in her usual place across from his desk, but it’s weird looking at an empty chair. She moves to Eric’s seat, which is considerably more comfortable, but even more unsettling. There isn’t a third option that will be just right, so Isadora leaves and heads elsewhere as she tries desperately to keep control of her breathing.

**INT. AAA - GIRLS DRESSING ROOM - DAY**

As soon as Isadora sits down in the empty dressing room, she exhales a shaky breath and shuts her eyes. A couple of tears to slip down her cheeks as she takes deep, intentional breaths.

> **Valerie, off-screen:** Don’t cry, darling. I’ll be back soon. This won’t be like last time, I promise.

> **Isadora:** Liar!

Isadora’s eyes snap open with fury, but nobody is in front of her. Another memory. She places a hand over her pounding heart and looks into the mirror. She wipes the tears on her face and swallows. She’s fine. Perfectly fine.

And then Valerie is back, looking down at Isadora in the mirror’s reflection with a fond smile. She’s now dressed in a grey cloak coat with black feathers adorning the shoulders. Her hair is down and sleek, dangling diamond earrings framing her face.

> **Valerie:** You look so beautiful, Isadora. I bet you knocked poor Farkle off his feet.

Isadora watches the mirage of Valerie with alarm, but Valerie continues on as if she just said something.

> **Valerie:** Oh, don’t give me any of that “just friends” nonsense. I’ll be walking you down the aisle towards him one day, I’m telling you.

Definition of her and Farkle’s dynamic aside, it’s another reminder of the empty space in Isadora’s life that Valerie is now unable to fill. She squeezes her eyes shut.

> **Isadora:** You’re not real. This is just my brain being weird. You’re not really here.

When she opens her eyes again, Valerie is no longer in the mirror. Isadora breathes a sigh of relief, but when she turns around in her seat, Valerie is sitting next to her. Isadora jumps.

> **Isadora:** Will you just leave me alone?!

Valerie looks at Isadora, startled and somewhat angry. Certainly another side to her, different than the jovial Val just a moment ago. Briefly, it seems as though Valerie is responding to what Isadora just said, but it soon becomes clear that she’s once again speaking words from the past.

> **Valerie:** You don’t mean that. You’re just mad at me. Which I understand, of course I do, but this was an opportunity nobody could turn down! I had to go, darling. Andrew Lloyd Webber  _ himself _ requested I play the role.

Isadora, engrossed in the memory, snaps out what we can assume was her response at the time.

> **Isadora:** I’m your daughter, I should be more important than fucking Andrew Lloyd Webber! You abandoned me  _ again _ and you expect me to move on and, what? Forgive you? I’ll never forgive you, ever. You  _ left _ me.

True then and true now. Valerie takes in Isadora’s words, but rather than responding with sympathy, she grows more angry.

> **Valerie:** What choice did you leave me? You refused to come to London with me, and we already agreed that you wouldn’t interfere with my meteoric rise to stardom. We had an understanding --

> **Isadora:** We didn’t  _ agree _ to anything, you dropped me off at a hospital and decided those were the terms of your motherhood. I was a baby, Valerie, I could hardly agree.

With a roll of her eyes, Valerie stands up and looks down at Isadora. The snarl on her face isn’t typical for the deceased diva, and most likely an exaggeration, Isadora’s memories warped with emotion and time.

> **Valerie:** This is my destiny, Isadora. You’ll understand someday. Ambitions are bigger than family ties; my dreams are more important than you.

Ouch. Not exactly what Valerie would ever _say_ , but certainly what Isadora’s subconscious believes. Tightening her hands into fists, Isadora levels a glare at Valerie and sets her jaw.

> **Isadora:** You’re  _ dead_.

> **Valerie:** No one is ever truly dead, darling. They live on in memories. With my level of fame? I’m going to live forever.

With that, Valerie makes another grand exit. She spins around, her cloak flying out as she does, and flounces out of the dressing room with her head held high. Isadora stares after her, then crumples, putting her head in her hands.

**INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY**

Zay has taken the stage after school, getting the opportunity to practice in a bigger space. Riley comes by to find him, excitedly rushing up to surprise him by practically jumping on his back. She claims she feels like she hasn’t seen him since yesterday morning -- it’s like he’s always hidden away, working on the next big thing.

Yes, well, when you’re a big deal… he kids with Riley before explaining that he’s just been working on his college audition routine. She’s like two days into school… but allows the moment to pass, asking what he’s thinking about for the assignment that week. Not that there really _is_ an assignment, other than “think about the future,” but she thinks they could have some fun with it.

> **Riley:** Could be a great opportunity to remind all these new divas who is actually top dog… with a very cute best friend.

> **Zay:** Oh? Who’s the cute one?  _ [ looking around ]  _ I don’t think I’ve met her yet…

Riley laughs, nudging him. Come on, they should do a duet together! It could be really easy and loose, they haven’t collaborated in ages.

As fun as that sounds… Zay says he should probably pass. He should take the time to really focus on his stuff -- the year is only going to get crazier, so he needs to take advantage of the time to get ahead of the game. Riley frowns, pointing out that if it’s all work and no fun, is it really worth it? She takes his hands and pulls him into half a dance, both of them goofing around for a moment until Zay pulls back.

* * *

**Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Almost There” from** _**The Princess and the Frog** _ **|| Performed by Zay Babineaux (feat. Riley Matthews)**

Zay cracks up, but still manages to slip from Riley’s hold.

> **Zay:** Riley! I don’t have time for that stuff. That’s just gonna have to wait a while…

He seamlessly transitions into the anthem to hard work, the number a perfect fit for his specific brand of determined ambition. Riley pouts at him when he sings _“ain’t got time for messing around, and it’s not my style.”_ Then he heads towards the front of the stage, looking out at the empty audience. Thoughtful for a moment, thinking about all the things that could hold him back… then he amps up with the music, _“getting closer and closer every day.”_

Truly easing into the song, Zay spends most of it serenading Riley about his dedication and dancing around the stage. She gets pulled into the dance, the two of them doing a jaunty semi-pas de deux throughout the rendition. It’s the silly, comfortable duet she wanted, even if just a fleeting moment after school.

Bottom line, Zay Babineaux is the one to watch. The star, the one with the always running engine, and masterful to watch perform. He’s on the ascent, and nothing is going to stop him now. _He’s almost there!_

> **Charlie, pre-lap:** I have no idea what I’m doing.

* * *

**INT. COFFEE SHOP - DAY**

Charlie is waiting in line with BRIDGETTE GARDNER to grab coffee, at that same shop in her neck of the woods. She’s squinting thoughtfully at the menu while he rambles with his hands stuffed in his pockets, lamenting the future bomb dropped on him at school that only served to highlight all the things he doesn’t know.

> **Charlie:** I don’t know what I want to do with my future, which feels blasphemous, considering I spent four years at two separate arts schools dancing all the time. And it’s like, of course I want dance to be in my future, but do I want it to be my  _ future_? I love it, but do I love it that much? And if I did want it to be the end all be all, then you’d think I would’ve tried harder to actually, I don’t know, stand out. But is that just me selling myself short, or do I just not care that much? Like, not enough to pursue it forever? And I think that me even questioning that at all is answer enough, but maybe it’s just self-doubt talking.

> **Bridgette:** Hmm...

> **Charlie:** Not to mention as supportive as they’ve been -- to me, sorry -- I doubt mom and dad are chomping at the bit for me to be a  _ dancer _ for the rest of my life. In fact, going to an Ivy seems like the sort of thing mom would love, and if everyone at Haverford is doing it then it can’t be so bad. Right? It wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. I’d learn a lot, and I do like learning. The problem is I don’t  _ know_, and I’m running out of time to figure it out. So it’s just like…  _ ugh_. I don’t know. I don’t know! What do you think?

> **Bridgette, plainly:** I think I might switch it up and get a macchiato today…

Charlie gapes at her, not sure what to say, but then she smirks at him to signal she’s just picking on him. Obviously, she was listening, though it would be hard to ignore him philosophizing like that even if she tried.

But in all seriousness, she is going to go for the macchiato. When they approach the counter she orders for the both of them.

> **Bridgette:** Caramel macchiato for me, and a raspberry lemonade for this nerd. We have to keep him off caffeine, or God forbid he  _ really _ loses it.

Charlie tries to hide his embarrassment as the barista eyes him with a chuckle. It’s so nice to have an older sister again, but it’s also fully terrible. The two of them move over towards the napkins to wait for their drinks, Bridgette picking up a sugar packet from the display. She tears it open and sprinkles some into her mouth -- truly the antithesis of her brother.

> **Charlie:** You don’t have to pay for me. In fact, you shouldn’t be, considering what happened with mom and dad. I’m the one resting on their money.

> **Bridgette:** Ah, and that’s exactly why I  _ should_. It’s tragic, the way you live.

It’s a joke, but one with weight behind it. Sure, money and security is great, but they both know the unspoken cost that comes with that in their household. One that Charlie has only recently truly started to understand the full impact of and how it dominates his existence.

Anyway, that’s a different trauma to unpack. Bridgette redirects the problem back to his current dilemma, his college and future anxieties.

> **Bridgette:** I know this isn’t what you want to hear, Chuckles, but trying to figure this out seems like a stupid quest when you don’t even know who the hell you are -- or at least aren’t crystal clear about it. Like, how are you supposed to decide who you want to be when you can’t even be who you are?

Fair point, and spot on, but yeah, not what Charlie wants to hear. He frowns, pulling a napkin absentmindedly from the dispenser and folding it over in his hands.

> **Bridgette:** I’m not saying you suddenly have to come out to everyone under the sun or anything like that. But it might be easier to start planning for your future if you think of that as part of the equation. If that part of you was free, if you were who you actually are,  _ then _ where would you want to be? You know what I mean?

> **Charlie:** Yeah, I guess.

> **Bridgette:** Easier said than done, I know. Believe me. But hey, you should still count your little Catholic blessings. It’s one problem to be overwhelmed by the future because you have too  _ many _ options -- better than the alternative.

True enough, Bridgette. Endless potential is preferable to no potential at all…

**EXT. CENTRAL PARK - DAY**

Although, for one of the people in the latter category, Lucas seems pretty content. He’s reclined in the grass with his head resting on Riley’s lap, the two of them hanging out with Dylan and Asher after school in Central Park. The other two are leaning against the trunk of a tree, Asher reclined between Dylan’s legs and sketching in his sketchbook propped against his knees. Dylan rests his chin on Asher’s shoulder, occasionally breaking from the general group conversation to murmur something in his ear.

The current topic isn’t Lucas, though, but Jade. They’ve just finished recapping her stress about applications, Riley saying that Zay is acting the same way. Which seems silly, considering they’re probably two of the most prepared applicants their class has to offer. Riley wonders if she’s been silly, not being more stressed about it.

> **Asher** : I don’t think so. A little anxiety is good, keeps things running, but single-mindedness seems like the wrong approach right now when the last thing we should do is run ourselves into the ground.

> **Lucas:** Big words from the guy who worries about everything.

> **Asher:** Yeah, well, I’m a professional.  _ [ off Lucas’s eye roll ]  _ Besides, we have enough to stress about  _ at _ Triple A. Like the elections --

> **Dylan:** Oh, yeah, you all heard Maya’s running right? She was speaking  _ very _ loudly about it at lunch today.

> **Riley:** And in the dressing room after lab.

> **Lucas:** Yes, I think the entire state knows Hart is running.

> **Asher:** Which is so bullshit, because what is she going to do? She hasn’t even stated any changes she wants to make, or policy recommendations --

> **Riley:** Well,  _ technically _ official intent announcements aren’t until later…

> **Dylan:** Your first mistake was thinking she’ll have any policies. She fell asleep during Cory’s lecture on government last year.

> **Lucas:** So did you.

> **Dylan:** That’s not the point.

> **Asher:** He falls asleep during all of Cory’s lectures. Government isn’t special.

> **Lucas:** What’s really bullshit about it is that Hart isn’t new. They’re all like this, every year it’s the same thing. The popular performers run, which is pointless anyway since we have the arcane process of the runner-up becoming VP, so why even bother to run opposition? Then they waste the whole year doing nothing, and nothing changes.

Hm, Lucas. It kind of seems like you care for someone who doesn’t care about political action. But the election is only the half of it. Asher carries on, highlighting the “senior showdown” as another big ticket stress inducer for them this semester. Riley asks what exactly that is, still a bit out of the loop even after three years.

Dylan explains enthusiastically. The senior showdown is a tiered competition between all the arts schools in the city, plus a few of the boroughs. Every year, the senior classes create a setlist and compete against one another until they’ve narrowed it down to the best of the best, who then compete head-to-head for a major grant from the Jacobs foundation to allocate to their schools. And it’s a _hefty_ grant.

> **Asher:** Usually, Adams has no problem sweeping the West Side. But it always comes down to Adams versus Haverford in the finals, and they’re vicious. Vicious enough, apparently, that they’ve beaten us  _ six _ straight --

> **Dylan:** Gay.

> **Asher:** Six gay years in a row.

> **Dylan:** Yeah, and  _ that’s _ why our rivalry is so hot -- and not in a fun sexy way. Because they always win, and they’re  _ sore _ winners, and Triple A has to wear that shame of being second-best like a little dunce cap.

> **Lucas:** Especially bullshit, since Haverford definitely doesn’t need the grant.

Aside from the fact that their biggest rival now has one of their own in their ranks, it seems there are way more stakes to senior year than Riley anticipated. She contemplates, losing herself in thought as she brushes her fingers through Lucas’s hair. Much to think about…

> **Maya, pre-lap:** The Havies will be eating our dust this year, make no mistake.

**INT. AAA - CAFETERIA - DAY**

Maya is having lunch with Farkle and Isadora the next day, fired up as they also discuss the challenges of the coming year. She’s seated on the table itself while the other two sit like normal people. Isadora is a bit zoned out, not fully tuned into Maya’s tangent. She simply comments that Haverford must have _something_ going for them if they’ve beaten them for six years running. Maya locks eyes with her, expression deadly serious.

> **Maya:** The other senior classes didn’t have me.

> **Farkle:** Wow. What would we do without your humility and selflessness?

> **Maya:** There is no time to be  _ humble_, Farkle. And I think bitches know that this place would be nothing without me.

> **Farkle:** That your campaign slogan? You’ll win by a landslide with that, I’m sure.

Maya cheekily pokes her tongue out in response to Farkle’s sarcasm.

> **Maya:** No, but seriously, will you guys help with my campaign? I have the charm and the winning smile, but I’m useless at all the political stuff.

> **Farkle:** Ladies and gentlemen, your class president Maya Hart. “I’m useless at the political stuff.”

> **Isadora:** I don’t want to get involved. Real-life politics is exhausting enough. Sorry.

> **Farkle:** I’ll second that.

> **Maya, with a pout:** You’re useless friends, you know that? I’ll never achieve world domination if you refuse to help.

And what a shame that would be… the comment was more playful than anything, but Maya’s words strike a chord in Isadora. As Maya and Farkle continue to bicker, she zones out and looks around at the other students.

Amidst them, not so surprisingly as her earlier appearances, is Valerie. Her smart, chic, deep red jumpsuit stands out from the casual clothes of the students around her, and her laugh echoes around the cafeteria. She notices Isadora watching her, and smiles widely, walking over.

> **Valerie:** Oh, Isadora! I was just talking to dear Katy about Maya. She’s certainly a diva in the making, isn’t she? Reminds me of myself at her age.

Valerie sits down opposite Isadora, next to Farkle who continues to look up at Maya and make wry comments. Somehow, Valerie manages to still look elegant and full of class while seated on a plastic bench in a high school cafeteria.

> **Valerie:** I could mentor her, like I did with sweet little Ariana… wouldn’t that be top drawer? My good friend Julie always says that, you know. Dame Andrews? Regardless, it’s wonderful that you have a friend like her.

As she continues to talk, Valerie’s tone becomes somewhat sinister, whatever vague memory Isadora’s mind is conjuring once again transforming into her subconscious thoughts.

> **Valerie:** Hopefully she won’t abandon you to chase her dream like I did, but if it comes to it, I’m sure she’ll make the right decision... as I did. I wonder when she’ll realize that all you do is hold people back. 

> **Isadora:** You’re wrong.

We draw back out from Isadora and Valerie to see Farkle and Maya looking at Isadora curiously. She realizes what she said and looks away from the now empty spot Valerie was in.

> **Maya:** I’m pretty sure I’m right about this one, Izzy.

> **Isadora:** What? Sorry. I got lost in thought.

Maya and Farkle share a worried look.

> **Farkle:** Are you okay? We can go eat somewhere else if --

> **Isadora:** I’m fine. Just... not hungry. I’ll catch you later, okay?

Her friends don’t seem convinced. She stands up, abandoning her barely touched lunch. Farkle watches Isadora storm out in concern.

> **Farkle:** Should we go after her?

> **Maya, wisely:** Sometimes, a diva just needs a moment to herself.

Maya shifts the focus to him, querying his prospective plans for the future. Farkle admits he’s not thinking too much about it right now. Given his privileges in life, he can basically do whatever he wants. The chances of him _not_ getting to go where he wants are pretty slim. That being said, at her insistent prodding, he expresses that his top choices currently are NYU, Brandeis University near Boston -- a well-established Jewish university, and University of Southern California in Los Angeles.

> **Maya:** LA? I didn’t realize you were considering the west coast.

> **Farkle:** Well, I’m just considering all my options.

> **Maya:** Sure, but you haven’t mentioned this before. You didn’t seem especially enthralled when we were there this summer.

> **Farkle:** We were there for a funeral.

He’s clearly not planning on mentioning his business card from the agent any time soon. Randomness of Los Angeles aside, Maya hopes he’ll elect to go for the New York route. She’s gunning for Tisch, and she doesn’t want him to be too far away. He’s all part of the plan, you know, their dual takeover of the Big Apple.

> **Farkle:** Optimistic. See we’re really taking the assignment seriously and dreaming big.

> **Maya:** Ugh, Farkle, zone back in, please! Earth to Farkle! Where is that manic, zealous energy of yours that I love so much?

> **Farkle:** Heavily sedated under a good dose of antipsychotic drugs.

Maya rolls her eyes. Medicated or not, for better or worse, he does not have to abandon his lust for life -- or fame. Doesn’t he remember all the grand plans they had, back in the day? First AAA, then Broadway, then the world. Diva domination! All of that can still be theirs.

Farkle makes a face, not completely convinced. Too much of a realist these days for Maya’s taste. It’s fine, he clearly just needs a little more persuading. That, she’s always been a master at.

* * *

**Song Cue ♫ ♪ “I Want It All” from** _**High School Musical 3: Senior Year** _ **|| Performed by Maya Hart & Farkle Minkus**

Maya and Farkle reprise their renditions of Sharpay and Ryan, slotting into the dynamic effortlessly as Maya launches into the number. The first verse stays confined to their lunch table, Maya climbing all over it and dancing around Farkle as he remains casually skeptical. Then she pulls him into it, the two of them dancing on the tabletop.

They carry the energy further into the cafeteria, pulling more students into it. It’s as fantastical and full of pizazz as the original, and it’s a lot of fun to see our diva duo fall back into their usual musical rapport.

**INT. AAA - DAY**

As we transition into the middle of the performance, they make their way into the halls, which is when things start to take on an imaginative edge. The two of them jump onto the atrium steps to belt out _“when Broadway knows your name, you know that you’re a star!”_

Then they’re dancing around in fancier ensembles, living the theoretical diva lives they’re destined to live. Typical critics of theirs, like Zay, Nate, and Chai, are casted as their crazy adoring fans. When they get to “Oprah calling,” it’s Asher who is trapped as their butler, taking their calls with a bitchy, blasé demeanor.

**INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY**

And the performance settles in the auditorium for the grand final third, the two of them delivering it with just as much flair and talent as ever. Sharpay Evans would be proud -- or maybe terrified of her potential competition.

Anyway, it’s sure as hell fun, and it’s brought back some of that spark to Farkle’s eyes.

* * *

**INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY**

Isadora finds herself in an empty hallway in a more secluded part of school, sliding down the wall to sit and hugging her knees to her chest. Her breathing is shallow, out of control, and she repetitively bangs the back of her head against the wall behind her.

> **Valerie:** Isadora, honey? What’s wrong?

Valerie emerges in Isadora’s peripheral vision, now in an elegant sky blue dress decorated with some gems and twists of chiffon on the shoulders. Her hair is up in a neat bun, and she has a variety of sparkling jewelry on to accessorize the glamorous look.

Isadora’s head banging halts as Valerie struggles to crouch down to her level in the tight dress. Taking on a motherly role, Valerie guides Isadora through an exercise to bring her out of the panic attack.

> **Valerie:** You’re going to be fine, little star. You’re so strong and resilient; it’s one of the things I admire most about you.

> **Isadora:** You admire me?

> **Valerie:** Of course I do! You’re brilliant, Isadora Samantha Miracle De La Cruz. Don’t you ever forget it.

Isadora releases her legs, stretching them out in front of her. She takes in Valerie’s warm expression and relaxed body language.

> **Isadora, quietly:** But I was never enough for you, was I? No matter what, you always leave me, and now you’ve left permanently. Is it something I do? Am I just not good enough?

> **Valerie:** I love you so, so much. You’re my little star, and always will be, no matter where I am.

Once again, Isadora’s memory can be applied to the present. It’s hard to tell what Valerie actually said in the past, and what is Isadora’s mind taking over.

> **Valerie:** I hate seeing you suffer like this. If you’re not happy where you are, there’s nothing wrong with moving.

> **Isadora:** Moving?

> **Valerie:** As Madonna once explained to me, moving away from something that’s making you depressed and anxious is incredibly freeing. Replenishing for the soul. I doubt an accent change is required, though, so you don’t have to worry about that.

Isadora laughs before smiling across at Valerie, who beams in response.

> **Isadora:** I’ll think about it.

> **Valerie:** That’s all I ask, darling.

Before vanishing, Valerie places a kiss on Isadora’s forehead. Isa watches after her, even once the memory of her has faded away and she’s once again alone. Valerie’s suggestion at the forefront of her mind, Isadora gets up...

**INT. AAA - JACK’S OFFICE - DAY**

Jack is busy sorting through school data, but doesn’t seem too distressed at being interrupted when Isadora knocks on his office door and promptly marches in. She’s not nearly as common a visitor as Lucas, so he’s a bit surprised.

> **Jack:** Miss De La Cruz. What can I do for you?

Isadora rolls her eyes at the formality.

> **Isadora:** Come on, Jack. We’ve been on a first name basis all summer.

> **Jack:** Yes, well, we’re at school now. It’s  _ Principal _ Jack to you. Anyway, is there something you need?

Isadora grows nervous, wringing her hands.

> **Isadora:** I have a hypothetical question for you.

Jack raises his eyebrows, intrigued, but hesitant at her anxious demeanor.

**INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY**

Riley is taking the rest of her lunch on a phone call, pacing outside the dressing room hall. From the look on her face, she’s not exactly thrilled with what she’s hearing.

> **Riley:** What do you mean you’re not considering dance?

**EXT. HAVERFORD PREP - DAY**

Charlie grimaces on the other end of the line, strolling through the lunch courtyard. He runs a hand through his hair, trying to avoid Riley’s well-meant hysterics.

> **Charlie:** That’s not what I said. I didn’t say I’m not thinking about dance at  _ all _ \--

> **Riley:** No, what you said was you didn’t know where you were applying or if it would be worth it. Which, why would you be asking that unless you were considering not applying at all? Obviously I’m not like dance has to be your chosen path, you know I don’t even know if I want to pursue the arts seriously --

> **Charlie:** Yeah.

> **Riley:** But to not even  _ apply _ just seems like… I don’t know. Like taking yourself out of the running before you even have the chance to get rejected. Do you know what I mean? It’s like, I’ve already got one boy I love undercutting himself to the point of detriment. Do I need to add you to that list too?

> **Charlie:** No, no, please. Don’t add me to your emotional workload. I guess I just wanted to… I don’t know. It’s nothing I haven’t already said.

> **Riley:** I love you, Charlie, but I don’t think I have the answers you want. I don’t think anybody does, except for you. And I’m not going to give you permission to stifle your passions because the ivy-covered path is easier.

Yeah, fair enough. Charlie isn’t even sure what he wants to hear, anyway. He points out that things are probably just feeling even more overwhelming than usual because he’s already in the middle of a big transition. He’s probably just overreacting.

If he’s feeling lost in translation, Riley suggests he come to the senior carnival on Friday night. It’s not like the carnival is AAA exclusive, anyway, so it wouldn’t be weird. It’ll be a great way to reconnect with everyone and tether himself again, and everyone would be so happy to see him.

A nice sentiment, but it doesn’t seem especially promising to Charlie. He tells her he’ll think about it -- but to her knowledge, that didn’t go so well with Zay’s closing night.

**INT. AAA - DANCE STUDIO - DAY**

The techies are assembling for the last workshop of the afternoon, which has been converted to Eric’s future lecture time. Hence, their unusual location.

> **Dave:** Dance studios scare me. Don’t know where they’ve been.

Not enough time in the world to unpack that offhand comment. They’re distracted moments later anyway, surprised when Isadora joins them, having decided it might be good to go back to her roots for a bit. Dylan, Asher, and Jade treat her just like usual as they fill her in on what’s been going on, but Nate, Jeff, and Dave keep a distance.

Her presence hardly matters much when Eric arrives, gathering them in chairs they’ve circled in the room (except Dylan, who elects to sit on the floor in front of Asher’s chair). Lucas is nowhere to be found, noticeable considering how few of them there are. Isadora especially takes notice, given that she’s the newbie back in their ranks.

Eric gives a brief monologue similar to what Harper said at the beginning of the week, and reiterates that it’s okay to dream big. He wants this to be clear for the crew of them, as they’re typically the ones who have to be practical in order to get things done. Then he sets them up with a warm-up activity, instructing them to break into small groups and chat about what their current prospective plans are. Just casually, no pressure attached.

Dylan somersaults and lands in front of Isadora, Jade scooting her chair over to make a trio out of their pair. Isadora asks Jade what her plans are first to break the ice, the latter giving her very detailed play-by-play of all the programs she’s applying to and all of the requirements she has to complete in the next few months. Not overwhelming at all…

> **Jade:** But it’s fine. I’ve got it. It’s all gonna be fine.

For sure… Isadora poses the same question to Dylan, who is decidedly less strung up than Jade. That’s because he doesn’t so much have a “plan” for his future. Not even in a detrimental way like some other people, just that he doesn’t exactly care much about what he majors in or have any super defined aspirations. He knows what matters and what’s important to him -- everything else, well, he’ll cross that bridge when he comes to it.

Jade obviously seems floored by his approach, but holds her tongue. Isadora asks what exactly is so important to be all figured out when he is so flippant about everything else.

Dylan beams knowingly. As the jaunty orchestration kicks off --

**INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY**

* * *

**Song Cue ♫ ♪ “If I Didn’t Have You” from** _**Monsters, Inc.** _ **|| Performed by Dylan Orlando & Asher Garcia**

_[ Lyrics specific to characters -- follow along_ [ _here_ ](https://docs.google.com/document/d/1CuZSKlJtLJoRmfzgcN1KbjvMIe71gklGf8B2BYlLR0Y/edit?usp=sharing) _! ]_

Dylan starts on the empty stage first, singing the opening lines with a casual, easygoing air. Then Asher joins him on the next pair of lines, Dylan’s grin widening as they settle into the duet. It’s silly, for sure, but also undeniably charming. And romantic, in a giddy, goofy way. Point made, it’s pretty obvious what Dylan considers the most key feature to his future.

During the dance break, their choreography is very simple and sort of purposefully over-the-top, but exactly on brand for them. Asher indignantly warns Dylan not to dip him, but he does it anyway. Should’ve stretched, Asher!

In the final chorus, the rest of the A class joins them on stage ( _“Where’d everybody come from?!”_ ), resulting in an incredibly fun and light-hearted closing spectacle. They’ve all got their arms around each other, laughing and goofing around, and Dylan and Asher are at the front and center of it all. Arms slung around each other and exuding that loving, optimistic energy, that in this case seems downright infectious.

They take it home facing each other, Dylan affectionately tapping Asher on the nose. _A-E-I-O, that means you! Yeah!_

* * *

**INT. CHUBBIES - DAY**

Isadora pushes through the door to the diner, finding Lucas at work behind the counter. He double takes when he sees her, sheepishly looking away and focusing on the cash register. She’s not deterred, smirking and shaking her head as she approaches.

> **Isadora:** Well, well, well. It’s funny, I don’t remember Jack giving you permission to skip school to come scrub tables at Chubbies.

> **Lucas:** … I had to work.

> **Isadora:** That’s your excuse for everything now. Even  _ school_?!

> **Lucas:** Well, only one of them is actually doing me any good…

And, in his defense, he _does_ have a free period at the end of the day. If he wants to dip early and come pick up extra shifts, he has every right. The only thing he skipped was the Eric seminar…

> **Isadora:** Yeah, I noticed. Don’t you think that’s exactly the kind of thing you should be jumping on? You know, considering you have… zero idea what you want to do?

Lucas huffs, floundering under her scrutiny. She’s right, of course, but he didn’t want to have to _address_ his choice to bail. But he knows Isadora isn’t going to let it go -- especially with the look she’s giving him -- so he sighs, relenting.

> **Lucas:** All of these conversations feel stupid and pointless. I mean, not for the rest of you, but for me.

> **Isadora:** Again, I would say the opposite…

> **Lucas:** I’ve known my potential futures my whole life. That’s never been confusing. There are two possibilities. One -- drop out. Or get kicked out, or expelled, or sent to a juvenile detention center, all of which have or almost happened. Bottom line, end my school career early, which somehow I’ve narrowly evaded. Other option is dead by 21 -- and the jury is still out on that one.

Isadora rolls her eyes. Not only because it’s his specific brand of melodrama, but because it feels so… outdated. That’s the way freshman Lucas might talk, before things started to turn around for both of them. Yes, there were still low points, and things they’d like to change, but things have improved vastly for both of them since they were lazing around the booth singing “Misery Business” because they were that laden with teen angst.

> **Isadora:** You are in a way different place than you were even just last year. You have people in your corner, you have opportunities. Things can change in an instant, okay, I would know that better than anybody.  _ [ a beat ]  _ Maybe try not being your own worst enemy and like… I don’t know, consider the alternatives. Allow yourself to imagine a third potential future where you’re something.

Nice mic drop moment, Isa. She gives him a shrug, like _just a thought_ , before sliding off the stool and heading out. Lucas absorbs the sentiment, obviously not completely sold, but perhaps a bit less fatalistic than moments earlier.

**INT. GARDNER HOME - DINING ROOM - NIGHT**

Charlie attempts to broach the topic of his future with his family at dinner, but he doesn’t get very far or make much progress. He mentions the presentation they gave at Haverford and ELEANOR GARDNER immediately lights up, wanting to know more about all the alumni and the schools they went to. Wouldn’t it be excellent, having a son attend an Ivy league… and oh, all of the enrichment Charlie could get out of it! She’s not opposed to him pursuing dance, of course, but since he hasn’t explicitly stated what his intention is to _do_ with it as a career, well, no harm in exploring other possibilities. Especially ones like Harvard or Yale…

ROSIE GARDNER is focused on a different aspect, questioning if Charlie is planning to go to some Ivy that’s like, out of state. Or a million miles away. Is he not considering schools in New York? Aren’t all the good dance schools like, in New York? DAISY GARDNER refutes that, as if she’s done the research, while AMBROSE GARDNER gently questions what major Charlie would even pursue if not dance.

He knows he brought it up, but hearing his entire family basically act out the bickering in his head like some bad dinner theater is going to make him throw up. He grits his teeth until he can’t stand it anymore, breaking through the noise to claim that he’s done eating. He gets to his feet and offers to clear their dishes, taking Ambrose’s plate and Daisy’s, despite the fact that she’s not done eating.

Rosie watches him rush off, not satisfied with the end of the conversation. Eleanor still looks pleased, raising her eyebrows at Ambrose proudly.

> **Eleanor:** An Ivy leaguer… wouldn’t that be something…

**INT. GARDNER HOME - KITCHEN - NIGHT**

Charlie goes to the sink and drops the plates in, starting to scrape off any remaining debris. But he’s still on edge, and after a moment he harshly shoves the dishes deeper into the sink and slams his palm against the counter. All these possibilities, so much endless potential -- so why does he feel like he’s suffocating?

He leans back against the counter, taking a deep breath and trying to swallow his emotions. He pulls his phone from his pocket, searching for a solution, and without thinking he finds himself hovering over a contact.

Zay. The person he used to talk with about things like this -- about everything. Who always knew exactly what to say, who seemingly knew Charlie and what he needed better than he did.

Before he realizes it, Charlie is hitting call, as if everything is completely normal between them. Then he remembers, cursing and hitting the end call button in a panic. He has no right to be bothering Zay about his problems, least of all when he can’t bring himself to show up for him or talk to him at all. That’s exactly why he left.

Charlie chews the inside of his cheek to keep from crying, running his hand through his hair. He’ll deal with it. He’ll figure it out on his own. No break on the embargo. He locks his phone and slips it back into his pocket.

**INT. ERIC’S APARTMENT - KITCHEN - NIGHT**

Riley is also doing dishes, helping Eric clean up after having dinner with him and Isadora. The two of them exchange comfortable conversation, lightly joking with each other and smiling. It’s a much more relaxed dynamic than she has with anyone else in her family.

Eric asks her what _she’s_ feeling about the assignment and subject matter for the week, as she seems relatively level-headed. She agrees she feels okay about it, although admittedly the prospects of everything they’re planning for feel so far off it’s almost unreal. She’s more so worried about everyone else, balancing everyone else’s imbalanced responses to it… perfectly in her nature, though Eric reminds her not to get so wrapped up in other people’s problems that she forgets about herself. Well said, sir.

If Riley is stuck on anything, she admits, it would be that she isn’t sure if she even wants to pursue the arts or not. Similar to what Charlie is going through, honestly, though she thinks his confusion is silly since he’s so incredibly talented.

> **Eric:** I’m sure many people would say the same thing about you.  _ [ off her sheepish smile ]  _ But I don’t think that’s what really matters. Yes, talent will matter if you do decide to pursue it, but it has no bearing on whether you even want to take on that struggle or not. That’s a question of purpose, ambition, not ability.

Fair point, Eric. Quite sharp, actually… and that’s exactly the piece Riley hasn’t figured out yet. Thankfully, she _does_ have time to figure it out. Eric tells her as much, patting her shoulder reassuringly. She nods, changing tracks and stating that she honestly can’t even think about the end of this week with the thing she and Lucas have on Thursday looming over her. She knows it’s stupid to be stressed about it… like, it’s a nice thing in theory, she shouldn’t be stressed…

And yet. Eric nods knowingly, telling her that seems like a valid reaction. Just giving how… complicated that has all been for her. But he’s sure that everything will go well. Riley smiles, choosing to believe he’s right.

**INT. MINKUS HOME - NIGHT**

As the Minkus family is retiring after family dinner, Farkle is still engaged in conversation with Stuart and JENNIFER MINKUS. They’re discussing the same topic, the future on the brain thanks to the lesson for the week. The stakes for them are pointedly less stressed, however, because as Farkle pointed out, it’s very unlikely he will not get to go where he wants. Based on all their privilege, it’s more just about narrowing down which lucky universities will get his applications at all.

Still, Jennifer has her opinions. She’s gunning for Brandeis, with its Jewish roots and the fact that it’s not too far from New York. She knows Farkle is considering the west coast, but it would sure be nice to have him close… Farkle asks Stuart what he thinks, gauging the overall mood. Stuart amicably states he thinks Farkle should do whatever would make him happiest -- both in major, and location -- and they’ll do whatever it takes to get him there.

A nice sentiment, but not quite what Farkle wanted to hear. Though he smiles, it’s a bit thin. It seems as though maybe he wanted Stuart to _also_ say he doesn’t want him to go too far away.

**INT. BABINEAUX HOME - KITCHEN - NIGHT**

OMAR BABINEAUX is up late with a coffee and skimming through some work at the table, dinner long since over. It’s only then that Zay gets home from school, returning way later than any normal student would on a typical school day. He drops his duffle by the stairs and heads into the kitchen, refilling his water bottle. Omar greets him, informing him that there’s leftovers waiting for him in the fridge.

Zay immediately goes to start reheating his dinner, Omar peering at him from over his paperwork. He comments that it’s pretty late to be coming home, to which Zay offhandedly explains he was just rehearsing. When Omar questions if rehearsing should really take until this late at night, Zay bristles a bit. He points out that he and mom are always saying how much harder he has to work to keep up -- is him doing just that suddenly an issue? This is the time to be working hard, anyway. If he needs to be on his A game, the time would be now.

Omar raises a hand in surrender, not nearly as dramatic as the rest of his family and not looking for a scrap. He just points out that for as hard as he’s working, he’s gotta be doing self-maintenance too. Keep the engine going if he intends to run it this hard. He’s taking care of himself, right? Taking breaks, staying hydrated, doing his cool down stretches?

Zay gets defensive, huffing that yes, he’s doing his stretches. He doesn’t need a lecture. He escapes further questioning, taking his food and retreating to his room. Omar watches him go, contemplating, though unsure what else he could share to express his concerns without undercutting all of his son’s commitment and hard work.

**INT. ERIC’S APARTMENT - NIGHT**

Riley now gone, Isadora and Eric sit on the couch watching TV together, Isadora under a blanket and Eric holding a mug of tea. After glancing between the TV and Eric for a moment, Isadora turns the TV off and turns to face him.

> **Eric:** Hey, we were about to find out which C-list celebrity was in that hideous costume!

> **Isadora:** I have something I need to talk to you about.

> **Eric:** How worried do I need to be on a scale from “I broke that amazing solar system lamp you bought me” to “I got into an argument with Farkle and murdered him?”

Isadora laughs, and assures Eric that she has not broken anything, nor murdered anyone. She goes on to explain her situation with Valerie, Eric listening attentively with brows furrowed in thought.

> **Isadora:** Am I going insane? I’ve never heard of people  _ seeing the dead _ while grieving before.

> **Eric:** You’re not insane. Everyone experiences grief differently. There’s such a thing as “complicated grief,” which  _ can _ include hallucinations of the deceased person you’re mourning. I’ll call up your therapist tomorrow morning and book you another appointment sooner rather than later.

Isadora nods, relieved that this isn’t something _totally_ wacky. She bites on her bottom lip as she tries to word the next thing she wants to discuss.

> **Isadora:** I talked with Jack today.

> **Eric, wary:** Oh? About...

> **Isadora:** I... I’m not sure if I can be at Triple A.  _ [ off his shock ]  _ I know it’s only been a couple of days, but there’s just so many memories of Valerie there, and I don’t think I can handle it. It’s literally… making me crazy. It’s too much.

Eric takes a moment to think, assessing his own emotions before he speaks. Isadora watches him carefully, obviously waiting for a sign from his reaction.

> **Eric:** Okay. This is definitely something to think about, and we can have a longer conversation about it soon, but I hear you and appreciate what you’re going through. It’s completely understandable to want to get away from things that only hurt to remember.

> **Isadora:** … but...

> **Eric:** But remembering a lost loved one is not a bad thing. You don’t have to forget about your mom and lock her away in the past in order to move on. In fact, reminiscing is often an important part of the grieving process.

Isadora considers for a moment, thinking back to something Valerie told her.

> **Isadora:** She said once that people live on in memories.

> **Eric:** It’s true. Although the actual person remains out of reach, you always have them. In some way.

* * *

**Song Cue ♫ ♪ “The Place Where Lost Things Go” from** _**Mary Poppins Returns** _ **|| Performed by Eric Matthews**

Eric sings this lullaby-like song with the city of New York as his backdrop through the window. The performance is simple, but sweet. The first verse is spent on the couch, Isadora cuddled up under her blanket, but then Eric pulls her up and into a slow dance around the apartment.

As they spin into the third verse, Eric is replaced by Valerie, who wears a classic ball gown that spins with her as she dances with Isadora. Isadora becomes emotional, and launches forwards into a hug. She lands in Eric’s arms and he holds her tightly as she cries for a moment. He then helps her up and guides her to…

**INT. ERIC’S APARTMENT - ISADORA’S BEDROOM - NIGHT**

It’s easy to forget that Isadora is still a child with her tough exterior, but this moment reminds us just how vulnerable she is as she curls up under her covers. Eric perches on the end of the bed for the final verse, a sad smile on his face as he looks at Isadora.

* * *

Once the music has faded out, Eric stands up.

> **Eric:** How about you take the day to rest tomorrow? See how you feel with a little space. You were thrown into the deep end this week, you can take a break if need be.

> **Isadora, nodding:** Okay.

Eric switches the light off by the doorway and bids Isadora a goodnight.

> **Isadora:** Night. Love you.

Oh. Well, this has turned into a rather significant moment for the adopted-father-daughter duo, since that’s the first time Isadora has told him that she loves him.

> **Eric, whispering:** Love you, too.

He softly shuts the door, which he then leans against as he smiles.

**INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY**

The A class is starting to get back into the swing of things, the techies hearing out pitches for performances the performers want to do in the coming weeks and starting to work on new set pieces. The performers are operating a little more leisurely, killing time between meeting with the techies to socialize and start deliberating on new collaborations.

While in the midst of arguing with NICK YOGI and NIGEL CHEY about why an elaborate idea of theirs (mainly on Yogi’s part) isn’t feasible -- for a number of reasons -- Lucas tunes into a conversation Maya is having with Sarah, Darby, and YINDRA AMINO. She’s loudly explaining what her first decree as class president would be, which would be to get their dressing rooms refurbished and upgraded. It’s all bullshit and prissy nonsense, but exactly the kind of stuff performer presidents always end up running on.

It’s evident that the injustice of it all is still prickling at Lucas’s mind. He’s only distracted when Nate jogs up to him, bluntly informing him that one of their major tools is broken. Again.

> **Nate:** And I’m no doctor, but I don’t think duct tape is gonna fix it this time.

Lucas shakes his head, glaring over his shoulder when Maya and Darby burst into laughter about something related to her presidential plans. Yeah, the allocation of student funds at this school is really top notch…

**INT. HAVERFORD PREP - AUDITORIUM - DAY**

Certainly not the same vibes at Haverford, where the auditorium, sets, and facilities are looking as polished as ever. Guess that’s what winning showdown six years in a row will get you. They’re just wrapping up a rehearsal for showdown, Brandon and Billy giving notes before they break for lunch.

As they’re heading out, Evan calls for Charlie, who was zoned out for a majority of the notes. He invites him to grab a meal with him and Dweezil, but Charlie declines. He claims he’s just gonna hang back for a minute and run through the routine again -- he’s got a little catching up to do. Evan and Dweezil are reluctant to let it drop, obviously able to sense his low mood, but well, they don’t know him like that yet. So they leave him be, and finally, Charlie is alone in the auditorium for the first time.

He starts strong in adhering to his promise of practicing, but he only gets a few steps in before he loses his concentration. He exhales shortly, telling himself to focus. This shouldn’t be hard. It’s just because his brain is all fogged up, there’s too much clouding his thoughts…

Charlie gives up, going and sitting on the edge of the stage. He absorbs the quiet for a moment. It’s the first time he’s just… existed on a stage in a long time, and the serenity is nice. But is it where he _belongs_?

He climbs to his feet, for a moment indulging in fantasy and allowing himself to imagine he’s the star of the show. Like he’s just done something amazing, that he’s doing that future dance career thing, that there’s hundreds of people out in the audience giving him a standing ovation. It’s not a _bad_ feeling, not bad at all… but it still doesn’t feel _right_. It’s not the perfect solution he wants, the way that things just click into place and he feels like he’s finally figured it all out.

* * *

**Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Go the Distance” from** _**Hercules** _ **|| Performed by Charlie Gardner**

For his first true performance of the season, Charlie picked just about the best “I want” song he could. The poignant soliloquy is perfectly suited to his current dilemma, on a number of fronts -- who he is, what he wants, where he’s going to go. Charlie doesn’t have big dreams, these grand ambitions, Ivy or arts. He just wants to feel like he belongs, and feel like himself.

_I would go most anywhere to find where I belong…_

In just expressing it, it seems like Charlie taps into some core part of himself again. During the orchestral break, he starts to dance. Nothing fancy, or showy, or really the most impressive of his abilities. Just some simple lyrical movements, getting back in touch with himself, channeling his emotions as conflicted and complex as they are in the most effective way he knows how.

**INT. HAVERFORD PREP - DAY**

On the key change, we also shift, following Charlie as he explores Haverford on his own terms. Taking his time to meander the exquisite halls, climbing to the second floor, all intercut with the solo dance break in the auditorium.

As he’s climbing up the main staircase, he launches into the final verse…

**EXT. HAVERFORD PREP - BALCONY - DAY**

Making it back out onto the balcony Brandon showed him, a sanctuary above everything else. The view is particularly compelling today, matching the elegance of Charlie’s performance. He approaches the edge of the balcony and looks out towards the city, absorbing the sunlight and the fresh air and momentary sense of peace as he sings the final lines.

_Somehow I'll be strong, I know every mile will be worth my while, I would go most anywhere to find where I belong…_

* * *

**INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY**

Lucas, on the other hand, is having a less moving afternoon. He comes back from lunch ready to grit his teeth through more performer collaboration, checking with Jeff and Asher about who the next person to pitch to them is.

> **Asher:** I’ll tell you, but you’re not gonna like the answer.

Lucas gives him a look, glancing towards the stage for himself. MISSY BRADFORD is waiting for them, flirting with underclassmen techies and charming them while she kills time.

Yeah, definitely not what Lucas wants to deal with right now. But whatever.

> **Lucas:** Let’s get this over with.

Asher nods, following him down to the front of the house while Jeff retreats back to the booth. Missy feigns interest as they approach, claiming she was wondering when they’d finally get going. She didn’t think Lucas was such technical royalty that they had to wait for him to grace them with his presence.

> **Missy:** I thought it was your job to be technical support. Isn’t that the kind of job where you’re supposed to be on time?

> **Lucas:** I tend to run on my own clock.

> **Missy:** Well, I run on my Rolex.  _ [ checking her watch ] _ And it looks like you’re late. Tardiness doesn’t tip well.

Dylan backs off from helping some of the underclassmen techies, tuning into the fact that there might very well be friction. He steps in and hops down off the stage to join Lucas and Asher, suggesting that Missy just go ahead and give them her pitch, and they’ll see what they can work with. She says gladly, spinning to take center stage and explain the vision she has. Dylan and Asher crash in the front row, Lucas staying standing at the lip of the stage.

It doesn’t take long for them to realize Missy is way mislead. If they thought Maya liked extravagance, she seems downright stingy next to Missy. She has all these grand ideas for performances and the technical elements that will go with it -- not _bad_ ones, just opulent -- and Lucas quickly jumps in to interrupt her delusions.

> **Lucas:** Yeah, that’s not happening.

> **Missy:** Sorry? I wasn’t finished.

> **Lucas:** And I’m telling you you are. Everything you just said? There’s no way that’s happening at Triple A. Not with student technicians, and not on our budget.

> **Missy:** Money’s no issue.

> **Asher, sharply:** He means the  _ school _ budget. That’s what we have to work with.

> **Lucas:** We can’t let some performers do more because they have more money. That’s not how it works here. Not to mention, half of the stuff you said simply isn’t feasible. Like, when it comes to our fly capabilities --

Missy is not a woman used to hearing no -- so of course, she completely misinterprets it. She takes Lucas’s combative nature and dismissals as nerves, a little anxiety at being around her and a lack of understanding of what she’s capable of. So she laughs, halting Lucas in his tirade and causing Dylan and Asher to raise their eyebrows.

Uh-oh.

* * *

**Song Cue ♫ ♪ “You’re Welcome” from** _**Moana** _ **|| Performed by Missy Bradford**

Missy confidently launches into the start of the arrogant anthem, crouching at the front of the stage and coming face-to-face with Lucas.

> **Missy:** _ I see what’s happening here. You’re face to face with greatness and it’s strange… _

He doesn’t even know how to feel in her presence -- _adorable_! She taps his nose after the belittling compliment, stunning him to the point that he doesn’t even know how to react. Before he can say anything she’s already up and moving, continuing on with the number.

Lucas scowls, turning to look over his shoulder at Dylan and Asher. _What the fuck?_ They grimace, Dylan hiding behind his arms in secondhand embarrassment.

As you can imagine, every “Maui” is replaced with “Missy” in this rendition, but she delivers it with the same oomph and flair as the demigod. She gets comfortable owning the AAA stage as she goes, continuing to flirt with the underclassmen techies and rope them into her antics. They’re more than willing to help her, because she’s pretty -- and they haven’t yet learned who to follow and who not to.

After a point, Lucas has had enough. He shakes his head and sets his glare, marching onto the stage to shut the whole spectacle down. Only he’s never had an adversary quite as shameless and unapologetic as Missy. When she launches into the bridge about two minutes in ( _“Kid, honestly, I could go on and on…”_ ), she disrupts Lucas’s attack by pulling him _into_ her number, essentially manhandling him to bend to the whims of the performance. It’s honestly hilarious, but also kind of horrifying, because _no one_ does that shit with Lucas James Friar.

When she finishes off the bridge, she spins Lucas away from her and releases him. He stops himself, dizzy, and mouths _“what the fuck,”_ completely dumbfounded. Dylan and Asher exchange disturbed looks, darting up on stage to come to his aid.

While they scramble to figure out what to do, Missy continues her full-on takeover of the stage right through to the end. She’s got the baby techies acting as her support choir, and they even pick her up and carry her at one point. A good chunk of them carry her right on out the doors on her final _“you’re welcomes,”_ truly uplifting the narrative of a goddesses among mortals.

This shit is not gonna fly. As she’s making her exit, the trio of boys watches derisively. Asher rolls up his sleeves and starts to go after her, scrappy mode activated, but Dylan grabs him and pulls him back by the waist before he can do anything. Missy pops her head back in one last time, giving them a wave and blowing a kiss.

_And thank you!_

* * *

**INT. AAA - JACK’S OFFICE - DAY**

Lucas is opposite Jack in their usual spots, the former doing his usual routine of lamenting whatever bullshit has gone on that week. Only this time, his disgust is justified, as we just witnessed the trainwreck that is Missy Bradford. She’s spoiled, and demanding, and so infuriatingly condescending -- not to mention completely out of touch. He never thought he’d say it, but…

> **Lucas:** I didn’t think anyone could be worse than Maya Hart, but she is. She’s worse.

Chilling. Jack empathizes, pointing out they both know that they’d rather not have her in their ranks. But she is, so for now, they’ll just have to deal with it day-by-day as best they can. Anyway, that’s not what he wanted to talk to him about. He mentions that Eric told him he wasn’t at the techie seminar. Lucas gets defensive, slouching in his seat and scoffing.

> **Lucas:** Okay, great. Do you and Eric like, tell each other everything now? Can’t you go back to hating each other?

Har har. Jack rolls his eyes, then claims that despite the fact that he should’ve attended the first senior planning seminar, Jack will actually be excusing him from the second one. Lucas brightens at this.

> **Lucas, happily:** Sick. I take back my complaints.

> **Jack:** I’ll be taking you on a field trip that period instead.

> **Lucas, not happily:** Ugh. Sick. I resubmit my complaints.

Jack ignores his commentary, though he can’t help but crack a smile. Lucas asks what the trip is even going to be, then, but Jack claims he’ll just have to show up if he wants to see. Very annoying, but an effective tactic. Cheekiness aside, Jack says he’s honestly looking forward to the excuse to get off campus just as much as Lucas is. With the new administrator around, and everything… suffice to say, it will be nice to get a change of scenery.

So it’s settled. As Lucas gets up to go, Jack gives him a quick good luck in regards to the thing he has with Riley that afternoon. He reminds him to just be himself and put his best foot forward, and everything will be fine.

> **Lucas:** I don’t know if you know me, but my best foot rarely ever cuts it.

**INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY**

Zay is taking another slot on the stage, still building on his audition routine. Farkle shows up and interrupts his focus, claiming that he booked the stage for this slot. Zay argues that’s not true, but when Farkle points out it’s already been like, thirty more minutes than Zay realized, he has to forfeit the space. Time sure flies when you’re working hard…

Farkle comments that he thought the routine looked pretty good, at least from what he could see. It’s not really a rush for Zay to head out, honestly, because he’s not even sure what he’s going to rehearse while he’s got the space.

> **Zay:** Why book the space if you’re not even going to use it?

Fair question, Zay. Farkle shrugs, claiming it’s what he’s always done. If he has the resources, might as well use them, even if he doesn’t know what he plans to do with them. This parlays into a brief conversation about how Farkle doesn’t even really have plans for the future, though evidently all the resources in the world to do what he wants regardless.

After all of the poking and prodding from others and with how hard he’s been working, Zay finally snaps. He cracks and lashes out at Farkle, laying into him about the fact that he’s so damn privileged and gets to just traipse around doing whatever all year while some people have to work their ass off to get the opportunities he’ll get just for breathing. But then Zay gets the bullshit for “working too hard,” and Farkle gets to just come in and take up space that he’s not even going to use.

It’s a pretty classic Zay-taking-Farkle-to-task monologue, not unseen before, but perhaps not exactly warranted in this moment. Farkle wasn’t being incendiary by any means, but he lets Zay take his frustration out on him without argument. Better to just let the diva moment pass than waste energy fighting back. And even for all the times he’s read him for filth before, there’s clearly a lot of underlying emotion driving this takedown. Emotional cracks that Farkle can see, even if Zay is acting like they’re not there or don’t matter.

But he won’t be addressing it then. Zay thanks Farkle for using his enormous fucking privilege to benefit himself, like usual, before storming out to go back to the dance studio. Farkle absorbs the criticism, letting it slide since it wasn’t exactly provoked.

**INT. AAA - TECHNICIAN’S BOOTH - DAY**

Dylan is up in the booth, flipping through notes they got from the pitch meetings as well as stuff from the underclassmen techies. He’s attempting -- poorly -- to organize them into some suitable arrangement, when he’s distracted by Lucas coming back into the space. His eyebrows shoot up, eyes wide.

Lucas is dressed well. Like, _nicely_. Casual nice, but still nice. He’s changed into something that clearly took effort to put together, a nice button down shirt half-tucked into his black jeans and hair combed into a semblance of order. Whatever he and Riley have going on that afternoon, it’s evidently worth sprucing up for.

Dylan’s expression shifts, starting to turn into a grin. Lucas holds up a hand, shaking his head.

> **Lucas:** Don’t. Don’t you fucking d --

> **Dylan:** You’re so  _ cute_, bro!

Dylan, stop! That’s the thing he’s sensitive about! Lucas grumbles, embarrassed, but Dylan assures him that he looks great. Well, except his cuffs aren’t folded right. He walks over to join him and starts fixing his sleeves properly, Lucas staring at him in disbelief.

> **Lucas:** How do  _ you _ know that?

> **Dylan, matter-of-factly:** My boyfriend is Asher Garcia.

Well… good point. Lucas lets him help with the fixing of his shirt, Dylan also taking the time to make sure his collar is folded appropriately. As they work, they chat about if Lucas is nervous about the thing and how Riley is doing. She’s more nervous than him, given the circumstances, but this sort of thing still feels important. He wants to make a good impression, you know, not just because it might matter but also because it will take some of the pressure off Riley.

> **Lucas:** If it makes it easier for her, then I want to do it. I just don’t want to fuck it up.

Dylan examines him, a grin creeping onto his face again. This one is more mischievous than the last, making Lucas glare at him preemptively.

> **Dylan:** You  _ loooove _ her.

> **Lucas:** I -- no. Shut up. I’m gonna kill you.

Dylan doesn’t argue further, but his knowing smile speaks for itself. He grants Lucas the peace of a subject change, pulling them back into what they were discussing before he went to change. He figures they can divvy up some of the first technical assignments amongst the underclassmen, working under each of them like mentors. If they establish that pattern early, then hopefully they’ll have a lot more hands on deck when they need it in the future.

Not what Lucas would’ve done if he were in charge, but it’s a good game plan. And legacy, too. And Dylan is clever enough to manage it basically on his own, as well as socially skilled enough to get all of the underclassmen to follow his word in the first place. Lucas shrugs, giving him his stamp of approval.

> **Lucas:** You know, people wouldn’t think it, but this place would fall apart without you.

Dylan beams. Funny, too, he says, as he wasn’t even gonna be at AAA at one point. Lucas frowns, confused.

> **Lucas:** Wait, what?

> **Dylan:** No biggie or anything. Just, I mean, when I first got into Triple A, we definitely couldn’t afford it. This was before my big Youtube break --

> **Lucas:** Right…

> **Dylan:** And we’ve never really been all that well-off. I didn’t get one of the scholarships -- because there’s like, what, six total? Seven? -- and so even though I got in or whatever, I wasn’t going to go. The only reason I’m here is because my dad knew I really wanted to come, and he didn’t want me to have another thing like that, another disappointment. So he took out a loan on the community center so I could.

Damn. Lucas absorbs this, once again thinking about the way money moves around in AAA. It’s hard to imagine their class without Dylan Orlando -- it’s not a version of reality he wants to know. If Dylan was that close to missing his chance to be there, Lucas can only imagine all the other people like him who never make it that far. All because of the simple, unfair fact that they can’t afford it.

> **Dylan:** I’m glad the vlog thing paid off in some way. Like I don’t do it for money, but it’s nice to be able to help pay my dad back for that, even though he keeps telling me I don’t need to worry about it. If I hadn’t lucked out with that, I don’t know how we would’ve paid for the last couple years. I’m really lucky my dad was willing to do that for me.

> **Lucas:** … well, I’m glad, too. Tell him thanks for me when you see him.

Dylan laughs, nodding. Will do. Lucas grabs his things to go meet Riley, Dylan claiming he’ll hang back and finishing putting things together. As Lucas heads out, Dylan calls after him one last time.

> **Dylan:** I’m playing guitar at your wedding!

Lucas scowls at him, flipping him the bird. Dylan merely grins in response, waving him off.

**INT. AAA - DANCE STUDIO - DAY**

Zay is back in the studio, obviously having been there for some time. Yindra and Nigel find him and interrupt his rehearsal, Zay happy to see them but still on edge and half-lost in his own head. The three of them start commiserating about the week, Yindra laughing about the insane campaign promises Maya is already going around making.

> **Nigel:** Kind of chilling to think that we’re basically going to let her walk into the student body president role.

> **Yindra:** Well, who’s gonna run against her? I value my life too much. Maybe Yogi? He’s just batshit enough to make it work.

> **Nigel:** I’d vote for him.

The conversation shifts to the subject of the week, though Nigel and Yindra continue to carry the brunt of it. Both of them discuss how spending so much time thinking on their futures kind of just makes them not want to have futures at all. Yindra admits that she’s more seriously thinking about just forgoing the whole school thing and jetting out to LA as soon as they graduate. Why spend hundreds of thousands of dollars for a degree in something that’s supposed to be already in her? Nigel clearly still thinks she’s crazy, but he’s more concerned about how all of these programs seem so competitive. Even if they’re talented, they need so many credentials at the age of 17 just to get the chance to audition.

> **Zay:** Well, maybe if you went out for them…

Oop. Hello? It’s clear Zay is still in a mood after his snap at Farkle, and some of that is leaking through here. Yindra and Nigel are like… okay… what the hell does that mean? Zay shrugs, pulling back on his tone a bit but just explaining that the two of them could easily have “credentials” already if they actually went out and tried for the opportunities that are out there for them. Like when he went on his big audition run last spring…

> **Yindra:** Ah, yes, the coveted “audition run.” Haven’t heard this 17 times before…

Point is, if they did that, like put in an effort and put themselves out there, maybe they could’ve headlined a Broadway production too.

> **Yindra:** _ Off_-Broadway.

Nigel diffuses the diva antics, claiming that they’ve all got their own things. Yeah, he’s nervous about it, but he didn’t mean to push Zay’s buttons. He knows how hard he’s working. Zay backs off, apologizing for the comment and saying he knows Nigel didn’t mean anything by it. So, fine, for now, then… Nigel states it’ll be nice to just forget about all this for a minute at the carnival.

Oh, yeah, that… Zay awkwardly admits he’s not planning on going. Yindra and Nigel are like what the fuck, dude, but Zay huffs and defends his choice. He’s got things to rehearse, and stuff, so wasting a whole evening doing nothing seems kind of stupid.

> **Yindra:** Rehearsing  _ what_? We’ve been back at school for like two minutes!

> **Nigel:** Hanging out with us is doing nothing?

> **Zay:** No! No, that’s not what I meant. I’m just saying like… this feels like the stuff that makes the difference. Like, are we gonna go goof around, or are we gonna take that time to get a little more polished before people judge us and determine our whole future? I can’t afford to just do whatever. I actually care about what happens next.

Oof. Nigel and Yindra exchange a look. Evidently, this is not the time to talk to Zayby. Yindra crosses her arms, matching his glare with a bitch stare of her own.

> **Yindra:** Okay, whatever. If that’s how you feel, then do that, Zay. Let us know when you’re done having your little bitch moment, and hopefully we’ll see you there.

Zay frowns, but doesn’t hit back. Fair enough, Yindra. She leaves first, Nigel giving Zay a thin smile before following after her. He sighs once they’re gone, glancing at his laptop with the song waiting to run-through his audition again. He slams it closed, frustrated.

**EXT. TOPANGA’S HOUSE - DAY**

We figure out what Riley and Lucas are up to that afternoon pretty quickly, as they get out of Riley’s car in a cozy, somewhat wealthy neighborhood upstate. It’s pointedly less hectic and nicer than Manhattan. Riley is equally as dressed up as Lucas, in a cute three-quarter sleeve floral dress. She’s giving Lucas last-minute advice and pointers about what to keep in mind once they’re inside, carrying a platter of baked goods.

When they make it to the front stoop, though, she loses her energy. Lucas is the one who has to ring the doorbell, TOPANGA LAWRENCE appearing in the doorway moments later. She greets them cheerfully, in her element playing hostess to a bustling house-warming party. She gestures them inside, Lucas allowing Riley to step inside first and lightly touching her back as they enter.

**INT. TOPANGA’S HOUSE - DAY**

The gathering is in full swing, lots of Topanga’s colleagues and old friends mixing and mingling. Riley passes over the platter they brought, Topanga taking it happily and calling for AUGGIE MATTHEWS to come and take it to the dining room with the rest. Auggie gives Riley an enthusiastic hug before he takes it, noticing Lucas standing there and eyeing him warily. Lucas offers an awkward smile, and Riley introduces him, but Auggie is clearly a bit spooked. He mutters a “hi” and zooms away with the baked goods. Great start, great start.

Topanga effortlessly transitions, claiming Auggie simply isn’t great with strangers. Riley continues the introductions, Lucas shaking Topanga’s hand.

> **Riley:** This is my boyfriend, Lucas.

> **Topanga:** Oh, in the flesh! I’ve heard so much about you -- from different sources and with conflicting accounts, but I’ve been looking forward to it regardless.

> _ [ Riley stares at her, but Lucas isn’t fazed. He’s had way worse said about him, and often with less interest. Interest, he can work with. ] _

> **Lucas:** Nice to meet you. Thanks for allowing me to come.

> **Topanga:** Of course. I mean, what was I going to do, tell Riley  _ no_? Outcasting my daughter’s chosen companion just seems ridiculous, don’t you think?

Ah. Very clever drag, Topanga. Lucas manages a smile, playing along.

> **Lucas:** Sure does.

Well, anyway! They should settle in, take a look around. It is a house-warming party, after all, and she intends to show the place off! If they give her a second, she’d be happy to give them the quick tour. Riley agrees that would be nice, holding her composure until Topanga flutters off with a quick request for them to wait just a moment.

She lets out a sigh, shaking her hands and trying to loosen up some of her nerves. Why is she so nervous? Lucas reaches and lightly squeezes her shoulder, then slides his hand down to take hers. She looks at him, giving him a grateful smile. Clearly very glad that he’s there.

**INT. SVORSKI’S COFFEE - DAY**

Riley isn’t the only one having uncertain meetings that afternoon. Charlie is anxiously waiting at the back table at Svorski’s, an untouched lemonade sitting in front of him that he has no intention of drinking. He’s doing his finger-tapping again, perking his head up every time the bell jingles and someone walks through the door. Finally, his expression shifts when he sees who he’s waiting for.

Asher Garcia. He scans the room for a minute and spots him in the back, Charlie awkwardly waving him over. Asher nods and starts to make his way over to him, Charlie internally debating what he should do. Does he stand up? Do they shake hands? How do you greet someone who you already know but don’t really _know_?

Somehow, he lands on the hand shake. He gets to his feet and politely greets Asher, though perhaps slightly too enthusiastically to be natural. Asher glances at his hand but accepts the handshake, slightly amused underneath his well-behaved demeanor. As they settle into the seats, Charlie thanks him for agreeing to meet with him.

> **Asher:** Oh, no problem.

> **Charlie:** Well, I really appreciate it.  _ [ a beat, then pushing the lemonade across the table ] _ I got this for you. Peach lemonade? Riley said you liked it.

> **Asher:** Oh, yeah, sure. Thanks. That’s nice.

> **Charlie:** For sure, for sure.

Asher focuses on the lemonade, taking a few sips of it while Charlie taps his feet nervously under the table. Once he places the drink back on the table, an awkward silence ensues, Asher mirroring his uncertain smile until he speaks again.

> **Asher:** So… is there like, something you wanted to talk about, or…

Oh. Yeah, ha ha. Charlie nods, clearing his throat and searching for how to even broach the subject. After stumbling around it for a couple minutes, he finally arrives at the point, explaining to Asher that he was hoping for his advice in regards to something personal he’s been trying to grapple with. He’s still getting used to… expressing it, but he knows he needs to say it to make it clear. May come as a surprise, but…

> **Charlie:** I’m gay.

Asher blinks at him, waiting for more. Charlie tenses at his non-reaction, confused, and Asher realizes he was supposed to react to that.

> **Asher:** Oh. Oh!  _ [ overcompensating ]  _ Oh, wow! Wow, that’s…

> **Charlie, flatly:** You already knew, didn’t you?

> **Asher:** Yeah, I’m sorry. I mean, I didn’t  _ know_. Couldn’t  _ know _ unless you told me. But...

He sure had his assumptions. Charlie grimaces, filling in the obvious.

> **Charlie:** I’m guessing that means Dylan knows too?

> **Asher, gently:** We basically share a brain, so. What I know, he knows. And he’s really good at that, reading people’s vibes. But don’t worry, we weren’t going to like… say anything, or anything like that. I know this sort of thing can be a lot to wrap your head around. Especially if you’ve got… other factors making it more complicated.

Yeah… all that. Charlies lets out an exhale, slouching back in his seat, some of the rigid tension draining out of him now that that part is out of the way. As they shift into actually discussing what that _means_ , Charlie explains that it’s hard to figure out what he wants his future to be when even his identity now seems so out of his control. He knows he wants to get a better understanding of it, to feel more like himself. Whether that involves telling more people, or when, or how, he doesn’t know yet. He just… wanted to know if Asher had any thoughts on how to _do_ that. Like, be gay, or be yourself, without so much of the… strain.

> **Asher:** If you wanted advice on being yourself, you really should’ve asked Dylan. He could give you advice on how not to be an anxious mess way better than I could.

The comment works as intended, breaking some of the tension. Charlie laughs a little, Asher smiling. Then he tries his best to give advice, expressing that no matter what, their experiences and journeys are going to be different. Everybody’s is, there are no perfect steps to follow to be gay. And trust, if there were, Asher would’ve found them. But to him, being comfortable in his identity is mainly just an exercise in self-kindness, being comfortable in a core part of himself.

> **Asher:** I’m kind of lucky, really, because for all my other stressors, sexuality was never a big thing for me. But it’s like… like all those other quirks I don’t like about myself, they were a lot more powerful and intimidating when I was hiding from them. Keeping them to myself, trying to shield them from everybody else, because then I could control how people thought of me. But unfortunately, life doesn’t work that way.

> **Charlie, wearily:** No kidding.

> **Asher:** Dylan was the first person who really saw all of those quirks, all those things I didn’t like about myself. And that wasn’t by choice, but when you spend so much time with someone, get into a relationship, you kind of forfeit the ease of hiding things. Especially if you really want to form a partnership where you know each other. And for how hard I worked to keep all these pieces of myself locked away, Dylan didn’t care about them when the curtain was pulled back. In fact, sometimes, it seems like he likes me even more  _ because _ of that, which is ridiculous, but so is he. The thing is, once someone else started getting that view of me, the full, unabridged version, the daunting nature of it went away a little. And then a little more, and a little more. And eventually, all those things just became a part of who I was, the fuller picture, rather than these secret faults I was trying so hard to erase.

Although not exactly the same, Asher’s speaking basically exactly to the issues Charlie is grappling with. He listens with rapt attention, hanging on his every word.

> **Asher:** There’s no easy fix. To coming out, or self-acceptance. But it’s like… the more I share, the more I share myself with people, the less power those negative thoughts have. And after a while, it just… is. I won’t make any promises, but I feel like once you start to set that part of yourself free, let people really see…  _ [ with a shrug ] _ it becomes easier. It’s easier to be who you are when you let yourself out of your own cage.

Well said, Bird Bones. Well said. Charlie takes the time to really absorb it, nodding. He thanks Asher, sincerely, who returns the nod bashfully.

**INT. TOPANGA’S HOUSE - KITCHEN - DAY**

Riley and Topanga catch a moment alone while Riley is grabbing a drink. She commends her mother on how nice the new house is, Topanga obviously satisfied with the compliment.

She deftly returns the kindness, commending Riley on how nice her new boyfriend is. The two of them glance out through the pass through where they can see Lucas interacting with Auggie, who is past his timid phase and all about the cool new guy in Riley’s life. He rambles on and on about something he’s showing Lucas on his iPad, Lucas demonstrating passable skill at humoring children as he listens along.

> **Topanga:** The way Cory talked about him all the time, devil of the A class, I admit he is not what I was expecting. Though I should’ve known better than to trust your father’s judgment. He loves to exaggerate.

> **Riley:** Maybe just should’ve trusted  _ my _ judgment instead.

Cheeky response, but there’s also some truth to it. The edge goes right over Topanga’s head, who waves off the notion of her ex-husband and declares that she approves. Lucas is quite the man, more than suitable for her beloved daughter.

The topic shifts to how school is going, Riley carefully explaining the assignment for the week and what she’s been considering in terms of what she wants her future to be. She’s grown strategic about what to share with her mother, knowing that sometimes what she has to say isn’t what Riley needs to hear, and she doesn’t always want her advice.

This time, though, Topanga offers some pretty genuine support. She states that whether or not she chooses to, she fully believes Riley has the capability to get into a fantastic school -- whether that’s for general education like Barnard or something grander with performing. Riley smiles, appreciative of the faith, until Topanga slides in her commentary like she always manages to.

> **Topanga:** I think the question is whether or not you’ll take the more daunting path or not.  _ [ condescendingly sweet ]  _ As we know, you’re not the best about challenges.

Well, um, who asked you, Topanga. She gives Riley a fond smile, patting her cheek before sauntering back out to play hostess. Riley bites her tongue, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. Trying to focus on the positive sentiments, rather than getting stuck on the backhanded.

**INT. GARDNER HOME - LIVING ROOM - DAY**

Charlie returns back from his outing, passing by the living area to find many members from his church assembled in his home. It’s a bit of a surprise after just spending the afternoon coming out to another gay, but then he remembers Eleanor hosts a meeting of the church mothers once a month.

Eleanor gestures him in to come say hi, Charlie plastering on his prince charming smile and coming to lean against the doorframe. All the ladies greet him enthusiastically, still the darling of the church. DANIELLE, MAITLAND, and TRINA are amidst the congregation, the same ladies who chatted with him in 109.

> **Maitland:** Eleanor was just telling us all about you moving to Haverford. I’ve heard so many wonderful things about that school. Are you enjoying it?

> **Charlie:** It’s impressive. My classmates are friendly, which is nice.

> **Trina:** Oh, forget about that! Your mother was saying you’re going to  _ Yale_. Now that’s something to brag about!

Did she now? Eleanor gives a guilty little shrug, unable to hold back her proud smile. Guess she’s got it all figured out for him. Charlie stares at her, then manages a smile to match.

> **Charlie:** It’s definitely a lot to think about.

The ladies all want to know more, but Danielle interrupts their enthusiasm.

> **Danielle:** You don’t want to go to that school, Charlie. No, you’d be much better off going where Agatha went. Look at her, all settled down with such a great husband. That’s what you need. You know what the young ladies are like at Yale? All lesbians, and they don’t even shave their underarms anymore!

Gasp. _Danielle_! The assembled women chide her, but in that way where they’re more so amused than outright disagreeing with her. You can’t _say_ that, Danielle, ha ha ha… it does give Charlie the chance to escape though. As he starts to back away, Eleanor catches his eye, giving him another proud beam and a wink.

So proud of him. The perfect, blessed son. He mirrors her smile, weakly, before he retreats.

**INT. RILEY’S CAR - NIGHT**

Riley pulls up on the curb outside Lucas’s apartment, the sun having set on the drive back from upstate. The two of them wrap up the conversation they were having about the music Riley was showing him on the drive, the car going quiet as she turns the volume down to say goodbye. He makes some pithy comment and she laughs, gaze lingering on him as she smiles at him in the passenger seat.

She tells him that he made a great impression, Topanga was quite won over. Now, whether that’s because of him, or because she wants to one-up Cory is up for debate, but…

> **Riley:** A win is a win. And you clean up very, very well.

> **Lucas:** Well, gee, thanks.

Riley beams at him, reaching over and smoothing out the collar of his shirt.

> **Riley:** Just goes to show when you put a little effort in, you can be whatever you want to be.  _ [ touching his face ]  _ I think when you set your mind to it, you can do anything.

Hm, yeah… he’s been getting that a lot lately. But when it comes from Riley, it really leaves its impact. Lucas absorbs the sentiment, Riley meeting his eyes.

> **Riley, softer:** And it was really good to have you there. Thanks for coming with me.

> **Lucas:** _ [ after a moment ]  _ Anywhere.

Riley grows a bit more bashful. She caresses his cheek, just taking him in, then leans across the console to pull him into a kiss. It’s gentle, sweet, and lingers as they pull apart.

Ah, to be able to be this way with each other now… almost doesn’t feel real. It seems like they might like to do it again, but Lucas pulls back, giving her a timid smile before getting out of the car.

She watches him go, making sure he gets inside.

**INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY**

Isadora is back for the final day of the week, and seemingly a lot calmer than before. She swaps out books in her locker between classes, chatting with Riley about her upcoming performance for lab next. Riley mentions that she seems more like usual self today as they make their way to the auditorium.

> **Isadora:** Well, I haven’t had any panic attacks yet, but that’s probably more unusual than anything else.

> **Riley:** That’s good, though! Hopefully it means you’re settling back in.

**INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY**

They arrive around the same time as most of the others in their class. Isadora moves on past the chairs and up onto stage, where Harper is standing to the side, fiddling with a laptop. She notices Isadora and smiles.

> **Harper:** Ready?

> **Isadora, determined:** Ready.

The class settles in for Isadora’s grand return to performing, and the opening of her chosen song begins to play. Isa readies herself, straightening her posture and looking out at her classmates. Within the small crowd is a bright, smiling face shining with pride.

Valerie. Isadora falters when her vocals are meant to come in, and she glances at Harper, who gives her an encouraging smile.

> **Harper:** It’s okay, we can start again.

She restarts the track, Isadora taking a deep breath. Her classmates exchange looks, growing restless. Riley looks concerned from her spot next to Dylan and Asher. Isadora deliberately avoids looking at Valerie, and her eyes land on Farkle instead. He gives her a thumbs up.

But then her eyes are drawn back to Valerie, who sits waiting for her performance. It feels wrong, suddenly, to be up on stage, doing what Valerie lived for, without her actually there. Isadora takes a step backwards and shakes her head.

> **Isadora:** I can’t do it.

Harper stops the track altogether, smoothing over the awkward moment and claiming it’s fine. Not a problem at all. Isadora doesn’t seem to be taking in what her teacher is telling her, however, her eyes beginning to glaze over. Harper notices and tells her to go take a breather, Isadora disappearing into the wings. In the audience, Missy snorts.

> **Missy:** _ This _ was my fierce competition to get in?

Maya looks about ready to throw hands, but before she can say anything, Farkle cuts in to say that he’s going to go check on Isadora. Harper excuses him and he hurries away after her.

**EXT. COLLEGE CAMPUS - DAY**

Jack and Lucas are out on their field trip, arriving on the campus of a local community college in Brooklyn. Not right in the dead of the city, but a welcoming and inviting environment. College students are mingling and making their way to classes, not paying either of them any attention.

Still, Lucas looks self-conscious and uncomfortable. He asks why Jack would’ve bothered to bring him to some random school.

> **Lucas:** So you took me on a field trip out of school to see… more school?

It’s not exactly the school itself that matters, Jack explains. He just wanted to get Lucas on an actual campus, to see what there is out there to explore, rather than thinking of it as this intangible concept he’ll never be able to see. Immersion therapy, in a sense.

> **Jack:** All of the kids here, they’re no better or worse than you.

> **Lucas:** Don’t know how you can say that when you don’t know them.

> **Jack:** I don’t, but I know you.

Lucas blinks, processing that assessment. Jack continues, stating that Lucas has all of the traits necessary to pursue higher education, if that’s something he wants to do. The issue is that he hasn’t ever let himself really consider it. So that’s all Jack wanted to do -- give him the space, the opportunity, to walk those paths and truly _think_ about it.

And to do that, they better take a good look around.

* * *

**Song Cue ♫ ♪ “We Are One” from** _**The Lion King 2: Simba’s Pride** _ **|| Performed by Jack Hunter (feat. Lucas James Friar)**

Jack takes the lead on this one, really taking the mentorship to a new level by putting it through song. It’s kind of like the sequel to “No One Is Alone,” only hopeful and optimistic rather than depressing. After the first verse, he starts heading deeper into campus.

> **Jack:** Well, are you coming or what?

Lucas jogs to catch up to him, transitioning us further into their self-tour.

On the Kiara verse, Lucas takes the vocal, still not quite the vocalist that the performers are but able to hold his own and get the point across. It’s theoretical performing, so it’s fine. He watches a handful of college students pass him by, all wearing spirit wear and looking much more put together than he is. He glances down at his own worn-down clothes after, unsure.

_If there’s so much I must be, can I still just be me, the way I am?_

Jack rejoins him when he takes back over the verse, guiding the way through the rest of the campus. The remainder of the performance is split between focus on them and a montage of them making their way through the buildings and rest of campus, really getting a thorough look around. Making the whole thing feel more real, instead of some distant, unreachable institution.

And the lyrics really hit home, emphasizing what Jack believes about Lucas. That the two of them are more alike than he realizes, that it’s never too late to change your path and decide you’re going to be something more. He believes Lucas can do it, has it in him to be a leader, an innovator, capable of great things.

And as they’re making their way around, it seems like maybe, just maybe, Lucas might be starting to consider it, too.

* * *

**INT. AAA - DRESSING ROOM HALL - DAY**

Farkle finds Isadora in the dressing room hall, pacing and trying to calm her breathing. He asks if she’s okay, to which she just shoots him a glare. He raises his hands in surrender.

> **Farkle:** Okay, sorry. Stupid question.

Still, the intent was genuine. He tries to find the right thing to say, but he’s never been an expert at comfort. He attempts empathy, assuring her that it’s okay to get overwhelmed. Especially with everything she’s trying to work through. He gets it, being all fucked in the mind --

For whatever reason, this sets Isadora off. She snaps at him, claiming no, he doesn’t fucking get it. They are not the same. Just because he’s his own brand of twisted and mentally ill doesn’t mean he just suddenly understands her. Having issues doesn’t give you a universal access pass to suffering. Farkle has everything -- money, opportunities, confidence, _fucking parents_ \-- and she has none of that. They do not have the same issues, and he is never going to get it!

Well, ouch. True, but unwarranted. It’s the same as Zay clapping back at him, but it’s different when it’s coming from Isadora. Least of all because she’s always been supportive of his own mental struggles, only to suddenly be undercutting them. Not intentionally, but Isadora has never been good at articulating herself when she’s overly emotional.

But Farkle gets the hint to back off. He nods slowly, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he retreats back to the auditorium.

> **Farkle:** Just trying to be there for you, Isadora.

> **Isadora:** … I know.

She knows, and yet somehow, right now, that’s worse. She doesn’t comment as Farkle pushes back through the doors, Harper entering through them a moment later. She asks Isadora what happened, how she’s feeling, and Isadora states she can’t perform anymore.

> **Isadora:** I thought I could. I thought it would be the same, that I could just push through it. But being up there… it’s like, every moment of it just makes me think of her. It was her domain. And… and I guess she took it with her.

Harper frowns, sympathetic. She respects her choice, claiming that she can step back and focus on technical stuff again if that’s what she wants. She’s always been dually skilled, she can jump back and forth however she wants, and she and Shawn will try and support her in that.

Though she’ll miss her talent on that stage… and if / when she decides she wants to try again, Harper will be there to help build her confidence back up. Isadora is grateful for her understanding, nodding in agreement.

**INT. COLLEGE CAMPUS - ADMISSIONS OFFICE - DAY**

Jack and Lucas emerge from an interior office, just finishing up a conversation with one of the admissions counselors. Although Lucas doesn’t have any intent of applying to _that_ school, it seems the field trip has him thinking a bit more broadly. He thanks the counselor without any prompting from Jack, the two of them heading out.

**EXT. COLLEGE CAMPUS - DAY**

As they’re walking through campus back to Jack’s car, Lucas asks him what made him really want to take the trip. Aside from escaping Yancy and whatever bullshit he’s up to. Jack shrugs, claiming he just has a good sense of what Lucas needed to get his head out of the trenches. It reminds him of someone, actually, this kind of potential back-and-forth. When Lucas prods further, Jack raises his eyebrows pointedly, gesturing lightly to himself.

> **Lucas, scoffing:** What? No way.

> **Jack:** I’m serious! I’ve told you that I grew up in a trailer park, in a not-great part of Virginia.

> **Lucas:** Well, yeah. But --

> **Jack:** Education wasn’t big there, not well-funded. And it wasn’t really encouraged, especially not from my dad -- he was a mess. Though probably a hoot compared to what you’re used to.  _ [ reflecting ] _ I can remember how it felt, thinking there were all these things I wanted to do but having no clue how to get there. When you spend your whole life being told you can’t do it, that it’s not for you, it’s hard to believe otherwise.

Lucas stares at him, stunned. Jack is… he _is_ success. He’s put together, well-respected, passionate and good at what he does. He seems like he just emerged from childhood fully educated in a suit jacket and tie. It’s hard to believe he was once upon a time also lost and feeling destined for nothing.

> **Jack:** I had to pull myself out of the gutter on my own. Figure the least I can do, for my own cosmic karma, is pay that forward.

And he sure did. Lucas pauses, teetering on the edge of what he wants to say next. Knowing that the moment he articulates it, even starts to _consider_ the possibilities, there’s going to be no turning back. It’s hope, and that’s a dangerous thing.

> **Lucas:** I don’t even know what I would do. Or where I would go. And the stuff you need, like recommendations and credentials, I mean…

> **Jack:** All of which you can figure out in time. In fact, now that you’re looking, I think you’ll start to realize there’s a lot more out there waiting for you than you thought. People who will vouch for you, places you can go… ways you can really make a difference…

Lucas furrows his brow, thoughtful. Jack starts to walk ahead of him, Lucas catching onto what he might be implying after a few moments.

> **Lucas:** Leadership roles look good, right? Colleges like that stuff.

> **Jack:** What, like civil service? _ [ teasingly ]  _ Don’t make me laugh.

In sarcastic Hunter language, that means yes. Lucas contemplates, then jogs to keep up.

**INT. AAA - ERIC’S OFFICE - DAY**

It’s the end of the school day -- and week -- but Eric is still hard at work in his office when Isadora arrives for a catch up. She patiently waits for him to find a place to pause, not-so-sneakily leaning forward to peek at what he’s working on. He makes sure to push his papers to the side when he refocuses on Isadora.

> **Eric:** I haven’t had the chance to talk with any of your teachers, so you’ll have to fill me in on how today went.

And fill him in she does, explaining what happened in performance lab.

> **Isadora:** I’ve decided to step back from performing. Not forever, I don’t think, but... for the foreseeable future. I’ve already talked to Miss Burgess and Shawn about becoming a full-time techie again.

> **Eric:** Does that mean you’ll be staying?

Isadora takes her time to consider this.

> **Isadora:** I want to look at other schools. Just to see the options.  _ [ a beat ]  _ Is that okay?

> **Eric:** Of course it is. It’ll be a shame to see you leave this place, but if it turns out to be what’s best for you, then I’ll be in full support.

Isadora smiles in relief and thanks him, a weight lifted off her shoulders.

**INT. AAA - DANCE STUDIO - DAY**

Zay has just finished up a run-through of his routine, the first time it’s actually a put together sequence rather than in-progress. He’s sweaty and out of breath, so he’s clearly been drilling it for hours, but to finally hit the last step sends a thrill through him. He grins, spinning to tell…

No one. It’s like it suddenly hits him in that moment that he’s alone in the studio -- that he’s been alone all week. Being in the studio doesn’t _feel_ like it, since he’s dancing, and because it used to be a place where he always had a specific companion…

But that’s gone now. It’s just him working himself to the bone, with no one to share it with.

He stands there in the isolation, catching his breath, smile fading. Clearly with much to think about.

**INT. GARDNER HOME - CHARLIE’S BEDROOM - NIGHT**

Charlie is equally focused, frowning as he scrolls through college websites on his laptop. Right now, the webpage for Harvard is pulled up, but he doesn’t seem particularly enthused about it. Other names can be glimpsed on the tabs -- Yale, Princeton, Brown…

Rosie appears in the doorway, only knocking after she’s half-entered the room. Charlie asks what she wants, not looking up from the screen.

> **Rosie:** Mom said you’re going to Yale. Are you going to Yale?

> **Charlie:** I don’t know yet.

> **Rosie:** … well, are you applying to it? Or Harvard or whatever.

> **Charlie:** I don’t know.

> **Rosie:** What about dance? I thought you wanted to do dance.

> **Charlie:** I don’t know.

> **Rosie:** … but like, don’t you think that --

> **Charlie, harshly:** God, Rosie, I said I don’t know! Why don’t you get off my back?

The room goes silent. Rosie shrinks back, not used to her brother lashing out at her like that. Especially because this time, she wasn’t even being purposefully annoying.

> **Rosie:** … sorry. I just wanted to know.

That’s clear, and Charlie knows that. He looks guilty as he takes a deep breath, closing his eyes and trying to reign in his emotion.

> **Charlie:** I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap.

> **Rosie:** It’s okay.

Doesn’t really feel like it. Charlie hates feeling this way, being in this mood where he gets like this. Particularly with his little sisters. He sighs.

> **Charlie:** As soon as I figure things out, you’ll be the first to know. Okay?

> _ [ Rosie nods, still timid. Charlie searches for a way to fix it, to get rid of the ugliness he brought into the room. ] _

> **Charlie:** Hey, if you wanna pick a movie, we can watch something in a bit. I just need to finish some homework.

> **Rosie:** Are you sure? I thought you were going somewhere tonight.

Yeah, Charlie is definitely not in the mood for that. He shrugs, remaining evasive.

> **Charlie:** Plans change.

Rosie accepts that, not going to argue against sibling time. She goes to pick a movie, leaving him alone. Charlie looks at the websites again but feels that sharp edge building in him, shutting his laptop instead.

* * *

**Song Cue ♫ ♪ “When Will My Life Begin (Reprise 1)” from** _**Tangled** _ **|| Performed by Charlie Gardner**

In terms of songs where the lyrics really pack a punch, this one is up there, even with how brief it is. Charlie looks around him at his comfortable room, in his safe and perfect household, where he gets to contemplate every wonderful opportunity he has.

_I’ve got my mother’s love; I shouldn’t ask for more. I’ve got so many things I should be thankful for…_

Charlie gets up, heading out to his balcony to get some fresh air, or maybe just to get out of the perfect house for a second.

**EXT. GARDNER HOME - CHARLIE’S BALCONY - NIGHT**

He makes his way over to the rail, shaking his head at his own ridiculousness.

_Yes I have everything… except I guess, a door Perhaps it’s better that I stay in…_

Yeah, there’s a loaded metaphor. Charlie slides down and sits on the corner of his balcony, same place where he started the episode. He tilts his head back, doing his best to keep his emotions in check. It bleeds through anyway, Charlie choked up as he sings the last line.

_But tell me… when will my life begin?_

Charlie glances up towards the stars, as if he’s asking them. Or, again, whatever higher power lies beyond them. Then he shuts his eyes, releasing a tired exhale.

* * *

**INT. CHUBBIES - NIGHT**

Lucas is working the late shift at the diner, though it’s admittedly pretty dead for a Friday evening. One of his fellow employees jokes that they might as well close up early, which he scoffs at, but doesn’t seem like a real possibility. His coworker even says that if he cleans everything up, he can head out and she’ll close up for the night.

He doesn’t seem to be planning to consider that offer though… until Riley comes through the door. She greets him cheerfully as she sidles up to the counter, hopping onto the stool and commenting that the place seems pretty deserted. Might be because everyone is off having fun at the dock carnival…

Blah, blah, blah. Riley asks how Lucas’s field trip with Jack was, with the mystery of it all. He explains it was actually pretty good -- thought-provoking, at least -- and he’s been thinking a little more about… things. Like the future. And possibilities. Riley is pleased to hear it, but nothing matches her reaction when he vaguely alludes what else he might be contemplating.

> **Riley:** Wait, wait, wait. Hold on. Lucas. Lucas James Friar. Am I hearing you correctly?  _ [ in an excited whisper ]  _ Are you thinking about running for president?

> **Lucas, flustered:** Look -- don’t… don’t  _ get _ all  _ excited _ \--

Too late! Riley is already there. She bounces in her seat, biting back her sunshine grin and hiding her mouth behind her hands. She nods and hums along as Lucas downplays it, claiming he was just _thinking_ about it, that he only is considering it because maybe he might want to go to college now, and okay, Adams hasn’t had a useful student leader in decades, and maybe if they had someone with half a brain cell in charge they could make some meaningful change…

> **Riley:** Totally. I love it. You have my vote.

> **Lucas:** Okay, well…

> **Riley:** Either way, I support you.  _ [ lighting up with an idea ] _ In fact, if you  _ do _ decide to run, then I’m on board. It would be an honor to be your campaign manager.

> **Lucas:** That fast, huh? Isn’t that like, nepotism…

> **Riley:** More like supporting a candidate I believe in. And you know, you should not be turning down this kind of help. I’m quite persuasive.

Yeah, Lucas has _no_ delusions about that. Between her powers of persuasion and his undeniable charm, she claims, they could sweep this election in no time. Again, provided he actually decides to. He should take all the time he needs to think about it. In the meantime, he should put it on the backburner. They have places to be.

> **Lucas:** We?

> **Riley:** Yeah. Carnival isn’t going to wait forever, you know.

Lucas hesitates, not sure what to say. Sure, he’s not exactly in his self-punishing slump anymore -- for now -- but he did sign up for this shift. And even though his coworker said he could bail, it’s going to take him a while to get this place cleaned up.

> **Riley:** Not to worry. I brought the cavalry.

And by that, she means the techie crew. The group of them push through the doors, greeting Lucas cheerfully and asking where they should start cleaning first. Asher looks particularly keen. Lucas gapes at all of them until his gaze lands back on Riley, who smirks and raises her eyebrows at him.

Yeah, talk about persuasive. Time to get to work, techs! Dylan whistles the opening notes...

* * *

**Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Whistle While You Work” from** _**Snow White and the Seven Dwarves** _ **|| Performed by Riley Matthews**

Riley underscores their efforts as the techies get to work tidying up the diner, her understated soprano as beautiful as ever. If anyone is close to a Disney princess in this crop, it’s definitely Miss Riles! And the clean up proceeds smoothly and enjoyably, even with the intermittent goofing off that the techies inevitably bring with them to every task. This includes Nate and Jeff tossing salt and pepper packets at Dave while cracking up, though they sheepishly get back to work when Riley passes by them with a pointed look.

With the work being done as a team, they finish the clean-up in no time, and with _plenty_ of time to go enjoy some festivities. The techies head out one by one, Dylan and Asher stopping next to Riley and giving her high-fives before they flutter off.

Then, it’s just Riley and Lucas for the last chorus. He surrenders, returning from the back room without his apron and joining her. He takes the whistle on the call and response, Riley unable to hold back her grin. When he gets close enough she takes his hand, allowing him to spin her under his arm as she drags him out the door.

* * *

**EXT. PORT CARNIVAL - NIGHT**

And what fun festivities are in store at the end of summer carnival! I understand that it’s unlikely Manhattan would set up a fair like this on their port, but it’s fiction and we do what we want. So carnival it is!

The A class is already in attendance, dispersed amongst the rides and spectacle and enjoying the colorful scenery. HALEY FISHER and CLARISSA CRUZ share a cotton candy with Darby, eagerly discussing which attraction they should hit up next. Nigel and Yindra are hanging out by the ferris wheel, the former debating whether or not he should invite Jade to ride it with him.

> **Yindra:** Nah, nah, you definitely should. Then you two can get stuck up there, and she can get like twenty uninterrupted minutes of you talking about Neil Simon and  _ Othello _ before she decides if she really wants to hitch her wagon to that.

Nigel glares at her, unimpressed by her cheeky grin. He’s about to retort when they’re distracted, watching with interest as Zay approaches them. Seems he decided to show up after all, torn between defensive pride and embarrassment as he joins them.

> **Yindra:** I see the king has decided to grace us with his presence.

> **Zay:** Look, if I apologize for what I said earlier, can we just pretend it didn’t happen?

Yindra and Nigel exchange a look, theatrically debating. Then Yindra nods, exuding mercifulness. For as smug as they are that they were right, they are happy that he’s there.

> **Yindra:** I suppose you may be granted a pardon. Provided you keep Diva Zay in check.

> **Nigel:** And buy us each cotton candy.

> **Yindra:** Ooh, yeah, that’s good. And the cotton candy.

Zay rolls his eyes, but he can’t help but smile. He tells them to choose their flavors, greedy bastards, the three of them heading over to get it.

The techies are all sitting around a table with a collection of food in the middle, which they’re having no trouble getting through. Dylan and Dave are attempting to eat one hot dog _Lady and the Tramp_ style -- Asher refused Dylan’s request to do it with him -- while Nate shows off how many churros he can fit in his mouth.

Isadora rolls her eyes at the boy's antics and turns to Jade, whose attention is on Nigel, laughing with Yindra and Zay at the cotton candy stand.

> **Isadora:** Earth to Jade?

> **Jade:** _ [ started out of her trance ]  _ What? Sorry. 

> **Isadora:** I was just saying that I’ll have to give you bossy lessons for when you’re in charge of us all helping out in costuming.

> **Jade:** Ha, probably. I have no idea how you used to control these overgrown toddlers.  _ [ a beat ] _ Do you think you’ll step up into a leadership role again now that you’re a full-time techie?

Isadora shakes her head and fondly looks over to Dylan, who’s struggled to keep the hot dog held together between him and Dave.

> **Isadora:** No, that’s Dylan’s role now. He’ll be better than I ever was. Won’t declare war on the performers, at least.

From the other side of Jade, Jeff leans over, swallowing a mouthful of food before speaking.

> **Jeff:** Never say never.

> **Jade:** _ [ wrinkling her nose at him ] _ So glad to have you back, Isa. You have no idea how awful it is being the only girl. So much testosterone…

> **Nate:** Woo, yeah! That’s right! Testosterone, baby!

> **Dave:** Why are we talking about dinosaurs?

> **Jade:** But now you’re back, and I have an ally! And a friend.

> **Asher:** Wow, okay. Thanks, Jade.

> **Jade:** I  _ meant _ an ally in sisterhood! You are such a baby.

Wah wah. Asher makes a face, Dylan laughing and wrapping an arm around his shoulders. Jade squeezes Isa’s arm gently and smiles. Yeah, she’s back… for now… Isadora gives a tight smile in return, choosing to keep her search for a potential new school to herself.

Elsewhere, Maya has joined Sarah and Darby, the latter commenting that Missy is nowhere to be found. Not making an effort to be a _part_ of the A class, huh? Sarah points out why should she -- if she had the money to be hanging out on a private yacht or jet-setting to a whole other city for the weekend just because you feel like, wouldn’t she? Who needs friends at that point?

Well, money isn’t _everything_ … which Chai says as she saunters over to join them. Maya stiffens at her arrival, but Darby is cheerful, agreeing that she’s exactly right. Chai is a perfect example! A great friend, even though she’s loaded.

Whatever. Sarah says they should go snag a spot for the fireworks display if they want to get good seats, and Chai offers this great spot that her dad always rents out on carnival night. It’ll give them the best view. The others love the sound of that, but Maya passes, claiming she should probably slum it down with her other friends. They are her future constituents, after all.

Once Sarah and Darby are gone, Chai takes the opportunity to chat with Maya alone. She makes it clear that she doesn’t have any ill intent, and she doesn’t want the two of them to be enemies. She’s not trying to steal her thunder, or anything like that. Can’t they respect each other’s talent and ambition _without_ getting ugly? Diva to diva?

Well… perhaps that’s a fair point. Maya says as much, tentatively agreeing to a truce before things really heat up. Chai seems relieved, happy for the cooperation. She figures it’ll be best for both of them… especially with what she says next.

> **Chai:** I think the high road will be best for both of us -- especially once we’re running for president.

> **Maya:** I’m sorry. We?

> **Chai:** Yeah. I decided I’ll be running as well. But that’ll make it all the more interesting, don’t you think? A little friendly competition to spice things up.  _ [ playfully ]  _ And may the best blonde win.

Leave it to Chai to end every episode with a bomb. She smiles brightly as she spins on her heel and leaves Maya reeling, jaw hanging open.

Zay and Farkle cross paths again as people are heading over for the fireworks display, nearly bumping into one another. Farkle apologizes first, the two of them opting to walk together. Zay awkwardly says sorry for the way he snapped at him earlier in the week, though doing so to Farkle Minkus obviously doesn’t come naturally to him. But Farkle doesn’t seem particularly bothered, shrugging and claiming it’s all good. He apologizes for coming off insensitive, as that wasn’t his intention.

> **Farkle:** As it turns out, I’m discovering I don’t know much about how anybody else feels, so.

That’s a pretty loaded statement, and Zay gets the sense it doesn’t just have to do with what happened with them. He doesn’t get the chance to elaborate, though, Yogi darting over and excitedly claiming that the fireworks are starting. Don’t want to miss this!

* * *

**Song Cue ♫ ♪ “A Star Is Born” from** _**Hercules** _ **|| Performed by AAA Seniors**

So we end on a high note, all of the A class enjoying the lights and excitement and color of the fireworks display. This also involves sparklers for them to play with, all heightened in joy and energy by their vocal backing as an instrumental. Yindra takes a majority of the vocal riffs, her dazzling alto unmistakeable.

And even in the midst of all their own future questioning, the group of them take this moment to have fun. Laughing with each other, experiencing the first of many senior year traditions, shimmering like stars in the reflection of the light show and sparklers. Maya dances around with Zay in the midst of the sparklers, Isadora and Farkle fake sword-fighting with theirs. Dylan takes a selfie while kissing Asher on the cheek, Jade and Nate photo-bombing in the background. Riley and Lucas share a sparkler, Riley leaning close and standing on her tiptoes to whisper something in his ear.

And slowly, in classic fairytale fashion, we exit the same way we entered as we pan up to the stars. Only this time they’re sharing the night sky with fireworks, as brilliant and bombastic and beautiful as the stars down below.

In spite of everything that’s uncertain, the future feels pretty damn bright.

_**END OF EPISODE.** _


	6. Class on the Run [ 3.03 ]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> RUN, DIVA, RUN – The A class faces their greatest challenge yet… health and fitness. Charlie struggles to keep up with the crème de la crème. The Adams election heats up when an unexpected player considers joining the race.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **CONTENT WARNING:** Discussion of (school) politics... given the timing I felt I should preface this LMAO.
> 
> ( Follow along with the music on Spotify [here](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/17qHHA7v0GQbxmmKZa10Hv?si=-1x_9vv1RySKFUuJcEfY_g)! )

**INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY**

We open on DAVE WILLIAMS with his A/V club microphone, standing outside the black box. He enthusiastically welcomes us back to what he and NICK YOGI are referring to as “Dogi Exclusive Senior Year Coverage,” before explaining that this week, it’s all about who is going to throw their hat in the ring to run for student body president.

> **Dave:** Before we get into the hot goss of who’s already declared their intent to run, let’s throw it to our political analyst, Nicholas Yogi, for a more in-depth explanation of how this election works for the viewers at home --

> **Yogi:** In class.

> **Dave:** The viewers in class. Take it away, Nicholas.

**INT. AAA - A/V CLUB STUDIO - DAY**

An abrupt cut throws us to Yogi, standing in front of a world map backdrop like he’s a news broadcaster. He’s dressed far nicer than he ever would be during school in a button-down and with a funky little tie, currently in his “political analyst” persona. Since he and Dave are the only members of the club, they kind of have to do everything.

> **Yogi:** Thanks, Dave. So, let’s talk politico.

Yogi gives us the most straight-forward -- and strange, as he’s basically playing a character -- rundown of how elections work at AAA. Every year, the senior class gets the chance to run for office. The students who take on the responsibility of president decide where certain aspects of the budget go, how student events will be run and executed, among other powers and privileges. It’s a lot of leverage to flex, though it historically goes critically underutilized, as much of their school has remained unchanged for the last couple of decades.

**INT. AAA - BLACK BOX THEATER - DAY**

A majority of the A class performers are assembled in the classroom, watching Dogi’s pre-recorded coverage on the TV. Among them are RILEY MATTHEWS and FARKLE MINKUS, listening to the political play-by-play with mild interest.

**INT. AAA - JACK’S OFFICE - DAY**

JACK HUNTER is paying no attention to the coverage as it plays on his TV in the corner, fully focused on paperwork he’s getting together at his desk. He looks stressed, which does not bode well for this week…

**INT. AAA - TECHNICIAN’S BOOTH - DAY**

There’s no TV in the booth, but the announcements are still playing over the intercom system so that LUCAS JAMES FRIAR can hear. He sits in his usual chair, looking up when Yogi begins discussing the powers of the president. His expression is thoughtful.

**INT. AAA - A/V CLUB STUDIO - DAY**

In terms of the election itself, they play by the old rulebook of voting. As the U.S. used to do it, the highest vote-getter is elected as president, and the second runner-up is automatically given the position of vice president.

> **Yogi:** Now, there are pros and cons to this form of election, with many historical precedents and oppositions, but we don’t have the time to get into all of that, nor do I care to explain it. I work for the Adams A/V club, I’m not Google. Ha ha ha.

Back to business, Yogi notes that the biggest caveat to this type of election is that it doesn’t encourage much actual competition amongst competitors. In fact, typically, performers run “against” one another, but treat it like a ticket campaign, and thus there’s not exactly much of a “choice” at all.

> **Yogi:** What this year holds in terms of competitors, well, that remains to be seen. Back to you, Dave.

**INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY**

Indeed back to Dave, where we left him.

> **Dave:** Thanks, Yogi -- I mean, Nicholas. My spunky little friend is right in that there’s no telling what this election will look like, though we are starting to get an idea. We went on the campaign trail to chat with the few who have already declared their intent to run.

**INT. AAA - GIRLS DRESSING ROOM - DAY**

Dave interviews CHAI FRESCO first, who is looking particularly polished for the occasion. As she puts it when Dave questions her intent to run, after her stint abroad, she has seen the ways that this school could improve. She has lots of ideas, and she thinks it will also be a great way to reconnect with her AAA family.

That being said, when Yogi presses her on what those ideas and improvements might be, she side steps the question with vague non-answers and a pleasant smile. Very politician of her!

**INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY**

For the well-known will-be candidate, MAYA HART has chosen the glory of the stage as her backdrop. She officially announces her intent to run with a flip of her coveted blonde hair, dressed in her most professional-looking ensemble. Somewhere between an Elle Woods style political aide, and Ariana Grande in her “Positions” music video. Politics, but make it glam.

As Dave points out, she essentially is the classic candidate in terms of AAA. How does she plan to change the game, to make meaningful change? Maya rattles off some of her fluffy, surface-level ideas she mentioned throughout 302, before shrugging.

> **Maya:** And, as they say, if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. If I’m the classic candidate, as you said, then doesn’t that sort of campaign for me? I’m exactly what this school wants, and what it needs. I think my fellow students will show that come election day.

She offers her most winning smile, dazzling as ever. Dave glances to the camera, unconvinced.

**INT. AAA - CAFETERIA - DAY**

Then, there’s the most baffling candidate in NATE MARTINEZ. He’s casual and conversational as Dave interviews him in the cafeteria, typical Nate as usual.

> **Dave:** So you’re running for president.

> **Nate:** That’s right, Davy. Nate the Great for president! Spread the word!

> **Yogi:** The children’s book character?

> **Dave:** When did you decide to run?

> **Nate:** Just last night, actually. I thought, why not? And it’s gonna look dope on my college applications. “Nathaniel Dean Martinez - presidential candidate.”

> **Yogi:** … just candidate? Not “president?”

> **Nate:** Well, don’t mean to  _ jinx _ myself, Yogles. And all I need is the candidate part. Colleges don’t care if I actually  _ win _ or not.

> **Yogi:** … so you’re running for the clout. You’re not even trying to hide that.

> **Dave:** Do you have anything to say to the voters about that?

Nate beams, nodding to the camera and holding up a peace sign.

> **Nate:** Vote for Nate!

That’s... promising. Dave looks to Yogi, who questions from behind the camera before they cut.

> **Yogi:** He knows we’re filming, right?

**INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY**

Either way, it’s looking like it’ll be an interesting campaign season -- even if the outcome will likely be the same as it always is. Although, time remains for a shake-up.

> **Dave:** While our loudest candidates have already announced their intents to run, the field is still wide open. The last day to join the race is the end of the week, this Friday, and any last-minute additions to the race will be broadcasted right here on Dogi TV come Monday morning. So stick with us, Adams artistes.

> **Yogi:** We’ve got the coverage you won’t wanna miss.

No doubt about that, boys! It’s guaranteed to be an interesting election, even as it stands currently…

**INT. AAA - JACK’S OFFICE - DAY**

But that’s far from the forefront of Jack’s mind. He just finishes getting things together when ERIC MATTHEWS enters, commenting on his frazzled state.

> **Eric:** You know, I feel like I find you like this most mornings. We should look into calming therapies. How do you feel about needles?

> **Jack:** I’m not letting you acupuncture me, Eric.

Well, it was just one idea. Besides, Jack claims, Eric knows why this week is so stressful. A bummer, in some ways, because once upon a time, it was one of the best times of the year.

> **Jack:** Well, things change.

They sure do. It’s clear between the two of them what about this week has made Jack’s tune change in the last couple years, but they don’t get the chance to commiserate further. Change marches through the door in the form of HARRISON YANCY, who greets both of them curtly before announcing that he has finished his initial evaluation of Adams.

From his tone -- half disparaging, half amused -- the assessment is not likely to be good.

> **Yancy:** I have to say, I’m appalled this institution is still standing. Where do I begin, gentlemen? Where to even  _ begin_!

And begin he does, launching into a litany of complaints about the way Adams is run -- or not run, in his opinion. Yancy is coming from a very old-school way of thinking, so the folly and freedom for many of the students at AAA does not impress him. Many of his complaints or listed “problem spots” are pretty minor or arguably not one at all, but Jack and Eric can hardly get a word in edgewise.

Even still, some of his notes do hold water. Yancy is quick to point out the debatable “balance” between academics and the arts, wondering where their requirements for languages are? Or extracurricular enrichment courses?

> **Eric:** Well, the school itself represents a course of study that is often viewed as “elective” at other schools --

> **Yancy:** Or the fact that you have 4 teachers teaching the necessary core subjects? Two teachers per A and B class, for four subjects, across four years? And what about higher-level academics, like advanced placement?

> **Eric:** There are only 200 students in the school --

> **Jack:** It’s not like people are coming here for the academics…

> **Yancy:** Not to mention the fitness pitfalls. Did either of you notice this facility has no  _ gymnasium_? No physical education requirement for four years? It’s a wonder you haven’t been shut down by the health department --

Okay, well, slow down there, Yancy. Finally, Eric and Jack have an opening to actually speak. Eric jumps in and explains that with all of the dance and aerobics the students do throughout the year, many of them are actually meeting or exceeding national fitness standards. Traditional physical education doesn’t exactly fit their curriculum.

However, they already have procedures in place that address that concern. Jack states that this week is the time where that problem will be addressed, so Yancy’s complaints are well-timed. Not that he would _know_ that, as he’s just joining them and doesn’t yet know the ropes like they do. But that’s fine -- they’re more than willing to let him play catch-up.

Yancy does not seem pleased by their prepared response, especially Jack’s cheeky edge. But he can’t argue with them yet, not until he has more time to poke holes in their integrity. He says he’s looking forward to seeing how they’ll remedy it, then, amongst everything else. Then he marches out, giving Jack and Eric the chance to breathe.

How they’re going to survive a whole year of this, constantly on defense, is a challenge all its own. They exchange apprehensive looks, as the clock ticks down and the booming horn intro floats in…

* * *

**INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY**

**Song Cue ♫ ♪ “4 Minutes” as performed by Glee Cast || Performed by AAA Seniors**

The A class is rehearsing their routine for senior showdown, the Madonna-Timberlake hit acting as their focal showstopper. And this makes sense, as they’ve chosen their biggest talents to lead the show. The performance is mainly carried by Maya, Farkle, and ZAY BABINEAUX, the rest of the performers acting more as back-up dancers and chorus than anything else.

Still, as non-inclusive as that is, it isn’t a _bad_ strategy. The divas are the divas for a reason, and their skills are on full display as they run through the rendition. And the other seniors don’t seem all that bothered, just as proud of their collective work when they finish the rehearsal as the front trio. They exchange high-fives and pats on the back, shaking off the sweat.

> **Zay:** Haverford isn’t going to know what hit them.

* * *

Hear, hear! As good as they’re feeling, SHAWN HUNTER isn’t moved as he marches onto the stage and breaks up their early rehearsal. He tells them to book it to the black box, as that is where they’re starting class this week.

> **Maya:** Um, but we’re practicing for showdown.

> **Shawn:** Showdown is on hold this week, Hart.

Maya drops her jaw, visibly offended. What could possibly be more important than showdown…

**INT. AAA - BLACK BOX THEATER - DAY**

The performers file in to join the techies in the black box, HARPER BURGESS waiting at the front with Jack and Eric. Everyone questions why they’re meeting like this.

> **Sarah:** We usually don’t have to meet with the techies so soon in the day…

> **Jeff:** The feeling is mutual.

> **Dave:** Is the school getting shut down?

Everyone looks to Dave, confused. He seems genuinely concerned.

> **Dave:** I overheard administrator Fancy talking about it.

> **Asher:** Yancy.

> **Dave:** Bless you.

Well that seems concerning, but Jack and Eric wave down the rumor before it can take off.

> **Jack:** No, the school is not getting shut down.

> **Shawn:** For now.

> **Eric:** Right now, we’re focused on this week. Which is a very important week for you seniors. It’s tradition at Adams that --

Suddenly, Farkle shoots upright at his desk, like he’s been shocked. His expression shifts to terror, eyes wide with realization.

> **Farkle:** Oh no. Oh no no no. I know what this is. Oh no.

The others glance at each other, uncertain. YINDRA AMINO raises her eyebrows.

> **Yindra:** Are you having some kind of psychic fit?

> **Nate:** Oh, sick! Minkus, tell me if I’m gonna win prez!

> **Maya:** In your darkest dreams, Martinez.

> **Farkle:** I know what this is about. I read the student handbook front to back freshman year. I know what’s coming. They can’t make me. I gotta get out, get me  _ out _ \--

Farkle starts to get up, but ISADORA DE LA CRUZ grabs his sweater and tugs him back down into his seat. Lucas stares at them, then points to him as he looks back at the faculty.

> **Lucas:** Okay, what the hell is up with him?

Once Eric gets the opportunity, he drops the bomb. It’s “fitness week” for the AAA seniors. As to be expected, this does not go over well. Half of the class are stunned, disturbed, the name alone setting them off. Farkle hides in his arms, devastated. The rest have a million questions, namely what does that even _mean_?

Eric goes on, explaining that every year the seniors spend one week going through the national fitness standards and spending some time focused on that so that they can check the box before deep-diving into everything else.

> **Nigel:** So… what? We’re playing gym class heroes rather than focusing on our studies? Or the showdown setlist? Or… anything that matters?

> **Jack:** It’s just for a week. It’ll be over before you know it. For one week, let’s pretend that you’re all average high school students, going through a normal high school experience.

> **All:** _ Normal_?!

What a preposterous statement! The class breaks into chaos, trying to process this request. NIGEL CHEY shakes his head.

> **Nigel, sarcastically:** Don’t see how this could possibly go wrong.

_**Cue title sequence.** _

As a coach whistle blows --

**INT. HAVERFORD PREP - PRINCIPAL’S OFFICE - DAY**

CHARLIE GARDNER is escorted into AARON JACKSON’s office by a receptionist, the principal greeting him pleasantly as he gestures him inside. Charlie questions if he’s in trouble, lowering himself into the chair across from his desk.

Aaron assures him otherwise, getting into the topic of discussion. When Charlie transferred, he took a placement test for most of the subjects they teach at Haverford to make sure he was up to snuff. And while many of Charlie’s scores were excellent, well within the senior honors range…

> **Aaron:** Your foreign language score was not so exemplary. You scored well, demonstrating relative proficiency in your chosen language of French. But you tested below the percentile necessary to be placed in the senior-level course here at Haverford.

> **Charlie:** _ [ trying to process without panicking ] _ Okay. So what does that mean?

> **Aaron:** Technically? Nothing. You’ll be placed in the junior-level course where I’m sure you’ll be able to pass with great marks.  _ [ a beat ]  _ The thing is, it will mark you as behind, so you will not be eligible for senior scholastic honors come graduation.

Now _that’s_ chilling. Charlie stares at him, mouth parted open slightly. The scholastic honors is one of the big appeals of Haverford -- it’s that little detail on a college application that makes a big difference to the Ivy leagues. Sure, graduating from the school is nice in general, but it’s the honors credential that they’re really looking for.

> **Aaron:** Given your course list from Adams, I have to say I’m impressed you tested as high as you did. Did they teach language at  _ all _ across the park --

> **Charlie, suddenly:** I can’t  _ not _ get honors. I’m trying to get into the Ivies, my mom -- I mean, I --  _ I _ want to go to Yale. I don’t think that’ll be probable without the highest honors.

> **Aaron:** Well… it’s not  _ impossible_…

Charlie clenches his teeth, doing his best to temper his anxiety. But his leg is bouncing a mile a minute. Aaron can sense his nerves regardless, contemplating before offering an alternative.

> **Aaron:** I suppose I could allow you to retake the French language placement test.

> **Charlie:** Really?

> **Aaron:** But I should advise you, Mister Gardner, that we use these assessments for a reason. They’re meant to place you in the best level you’re prepared for, to keep the course load reasonable for each individual student in that subject. I don’t doubt that you’re intelligent enough to learn it, but in tandem with the rest of your academics as well as the arts --

> **Charlie:** I can handle it. If you give me the chance, I’ll test in and I’ll handle it. Please.

Big promises. But Aaron nods, granting him the opportunity to try again. He claims he’ll administer the new placement exam on Monday, so he has the week to study for it. He also recommends touching base with the French instructor when he goes to the junior-level class that week, as perhaps he’ll be able to give him tips on what to study for.

> **Aaron:** If you take it on Monday and place into the necessary percentile, then I’ll change your enrollment to the senior-level course.

Charlie manages a smile, nodding eagerly. He’ll do it. Whatever it takes.

**INT. AAA - ATRIUM - DAY**

The A class is waiting in the atrium, milling about while they impatiently wait for Eric and Harper to kick off fitness week. Half of them are dressed in rehearsal workout clothes, the others still dressed for an average day. A few wise performers, like Riley, Zay, and Maya, are doing some stretches while they wait.

They’re also debating, going back and forth about who this fitness week is “actually for.” As the performers see it, since they spend multiple hours a week doing aerobics and dancing and staying nice and lithe, this is mainly for the techies. The techies fire back that they work hard each week too. Nate flexes his guns.

> **Nate:** Does it look like these babies need a fitness week?

Maya and Zay roll their eyes, countering as they continue to stretch -- and somewhat show off while doing so. Riley attempts to help Farkle with a stretch in the background, while DYLAN ORLANDO is substituting gymnastics for stretching. He does a cartwheel and then bends over backwards, then flips upright, all in the background as the divas continue to spar with Nate.

> **Zay:** It’s just not comparable.

> **Maya:** Yeah. We have agility, flexibility,  _ grace _ \--

Behind her, Farkle fumbles his stretch and falls over, kind of harpooning her point. She glances at him, then shrugs her shoulders. Isadora and Riley rush to help him up.

> **Maya:** Well, most of us do.

Dylan leans into a handstand, walking on his hands past the argument and stopping by Maya.

> **Dylan:** What’s wrong, Hart? You should learn to be more flexible.

> **Maya:** Ugh. _ [ watching him go in disgust ]  _ Disturbed...

> **Nate:** Well, Dave here can lift up to 200 pounds.

> **Yindra:** Seriously? You can lift all that?

> **Haley:** How the hell do you do that, Dave?

> **Dave:** _ [ with a shrug ]  _ I see stuff, I pick it up.

That’s one approach to weight-training. Before the performers can question further, Eric and Harper arrive. The latter questions why some of them are still in their regular clothes -- they should go change in the dressing rooms before they head out. They’ve got to get going.

> **Riley:** Going? Where are we going?

> **Eric:** Do you see a gym in this school? We won’t be having fitness week here.

> **Harper:** It’s a partnership collaboration, something we do each year with one of our neighbor schools. Some place that can actually provide us with athletic facilities.

> **Eric:** So get changed, and then let’s get going!

Dylan flips back upright, a little dizzy. ASHER GARCIA holds him steady, but his focus is still on their faculty.

> **Asher:** But Lucas isn’t here yet.

> **Eric:** Lucas won’t be joining us, so we don’t need to wait up. _ [ clapping ]  _ Let’s go team! Chop chop!

> **Harper:** You need to get yourself a whistle, coach.

Asher and Dylan exchange confused looks. No Lucas?

**INT. AAA - JACK’S OFFICE - DAY**

No Lucas. Lucas is doing an alternative assignment, which Jack explains to him while seated in their usual set-up. He states he obviously doesn’t expect Lucas to do the same routine as everyone else this week, the reason why unspoken but clear between the two of them, though not yet to us. Instead, Jack will be facilitating an alternative curriculum and administering his fitness tests.

> **Lucas:** _ [ with a snort ] _ You? You’re supposed to be my fitness instructor? You’re wearing a suit jacket.

> **Jack:** Believe it or not, I can athletics with the best of them.  _ [ off Lucas’s amused disbelief ] _ I have a life outside of these walls, you know.

> **Lucas:** Do you? Since when?

Lucas’s cheek aside, that is the plan for the week. But like his classmates, the assignment will be off-campus, which will be nice as it gives Jack the chance to escape AAA -- and Yancy -- for parts of the week. An assignment and a vacation, all in one. Jack gets to his feet.

> **Jack:** I think the question you should be asking yourself is can  _ you _ keep up with  _ me_? Mister Stale-Oreos-For-Dinner.

Lucas drops his jaw, Jack letting out a laugh as he gestures him to his feet. Got ‘em! Challenge laid down loud and clear. They head out, as the iconic guitar riff kicks off…

* * *

**EXT. QUINCY HIGH SCHOOL - DAY**

**Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Eye of the Tiger” as performed by Survivor || Instrumental**

The exterior of Quincy High is before us for the first time, a testament to public education. Though not as classically polished as Adams or aesthetically modern as Haverford, the school boasts a large, diverse student population and plenty of pride. It’s a large, dated brick building with a sign telling us exactly where we are, and a message cheering on their football team to victory at their next game.

**INT. QUINCY HIGH SCHOOL - ENTRANCE - DAY**

The students milling about between classes are run-of-the-mill, the sheer amount of them overwhelming compared the tiny class sizes of Adams. And they’re in _sharp_ contrast to our Adams seniors, who parade through the doors in slow-motion as the _Rocky_ anthem hits its famous chorus.

If the A class looks over-the-top on any normal day, then they really make an impression in their gym wear. It’s a confounding and colorful mishmash of rehearsal clothes, kind of like they’re all extras that stepped out of music videos from different decades. Patterned yoga pants, colorful short-shorts, bandanas, headbands, crop-tops, poorly cut tees, you name it. It’s obvious most of them have never done an exercise outside of dance in their lives.

* * *

That, and they stick out _sorely_ outside of the comfortable confines of their dreamworld at AAA. Though the effect works while they’re walking in slow-mo, the moment a few Quincy students walk through their shot at normal pace, glancing at them like they’re insane, it kind of disrupts everything. The music drops out pretty quickly after that, the crop of them suddenly looking like a herd of lost zoo animals.

> **Riley, quietly:** Everyone is staring.

> **Maya:** _ [ flipping her hair off her shoulder, trying to maintain confidence ]  _ Can you blame them? I’m sure they’ve never been in the presence of such star power in their humdrum existences.

Sure, Maya. That’s why. Thankfully, the spectacle doesn’t last too long. As they reach the interior hall they’re greeted by two Quincy students, a perky blonde cheerleader and an attractive Latino in a basketball team shirt. This is SUMMER (17) and DOMINIC (18), the duo assigned to be their welcome committee. They’re friendly as they greet them all and introduce themselves.

> **Dominic:** See you all took the opportunity to dress up! Love the enthusiasm.

> **Farkle, to Isadora:** Is that a joke? I don’t get it.

Isadora shrugs. Summer explains that they’ll be their unofficial guides for the week.

> **Summer:** If you just follow us, we’ll take you to gym. Then we’ll really get started.

They take off, the Quincy seniors leading the charge. The techies trail behind last, Dave leaning over to whisper to Dylan.

> **Dave:** Who’s Jim?

**INT. HAVERFORD PREP - FRENCH CLASSROOM - DAY**

The bell rings, junior French releasing for the morning. Charlie hangs back and waits for the rest of the underclassmen to clear out, approaching the FRENCH INSTRUCTOR. He politely asks for a moment of his time and explains his predicament, detailing how Principal Jackson has allowed him to retake the placement test. He was wondering if there were any materials the instructor would recommend to study, or practice tests he could give him to help prepare.

The answer? _Non_. The rejection surprises Charlie, but as the instructor goes on, _he_ thinks he’s in the right level. Pushing himself to be in the senior-level course when, frankly, he doesn’t have the foundation to do so, simply seems foolish. And giving him additional prep for the test, when the other Haverford boys didn’t have that privilege aside from their own hard work, is akin to cheating. Is it truly worth it, to be straining and struggling all year long in the highest level, just for the little gold star on his transcript that says so?

Long story short, the instructor isn’t doing Charlie any favors. If he really wants to fight the placement, he’ll have to prove he can do it on his own merit. _Désolé_.

Well. Shoot. Charlie frowns.

**EXT. JACK’S GYM - DAY**

Lucas and Jack make their way into a local community gym in Jack’s neighborhood. As he explains as they head inside, this is Jack’s usual spot for his own personal fitness routine.

**INT. JACK’S GYM - LOBBY - DAY**

And this week, it belongs to Lucas, too. Jack gets them both signed in with the desk attendant while Lucas looks around in interest, noting that his free bonus membership attached to Jack’s is _only_ for this week. He shouldn’t get any ideas.

> **Lucas:** Oh? But what if I discover I  _ like _ being a stereotype and aggressively letting out all my frustrations through vigorous physical activity?

> **Jack:** Well, if that ends up being the case, we can discuss further. If you really think you’d enjoy that.

> **Lucas:** _ [ to the desk attendant, like it’s a secret ] _ I won’t. (:

> **Jack:** Okay, that’s enough, then --

Jack waves apologetically to the desk attendant, taking Lucas’s shoulders and guiding him through the hall towards the locker rooms.

**INT. QUINCY HIGH SCHOOL - GYMNASIUM - DAY**

After a quick tour of the facilities, the A class loiters on the dark purple bleachers, waiting for the Quincy faculty to arrive so they can begin the actual assignments for the week. Eric and Harper are standing by, chatting amongst themselves while Summer and Dominic field questions from the A class.

Finally, Summer brightens as another man joins them in the gym. She gestures to him.

> **Summer:** And here comes Coach now!

Yes, here comes Coach indeed. Good-looking, well-muscled, with a dazzling smile and a jawline that could cut glass. It’s a lot to take in at once -- especially for the male-attracted members of the A class -- and yet something about him is vaguely familiar. Something they can’t place…

> **Dominic:** Just in time. Everybody, this is Quincy’s favorite educator, Coach Friar.

Yep. _That’s right._ KENNETH FRIAR stands before them, wearing his Quincy purple and a proud beam. Riley’s eyes widen, the color draining from her face. Next to her, Dylan, Asher, and Isadora have similar expressions of shock and discontent. Dave, less quick on the uptake, leans over to Nate.

> **Dave, under his breath:** Is that Jim?

Kenneth takes it from there, greeting all of them and claiming it’s an honor to get to host them for the week. The fitness week tradition is one he’s quite fond of, as it’s always nice to mix and mingle with their neighbors and share a little culture between schools.

> **Yindra:** Since when is gym class culture?

As he talks, though, it’s hard to remember the monster those close to Lucas have always imagined Kenneth as. He’s _likeable_ , charming and enthusiastic like the best kind of teachers as he explains to them the gist of the week and how it will unfold. Not at all aggressive on the surface, and demonstrating clear reason why he’s known as a favorite faculty.

Case in point, it’s jarring. Riley can hardly listen to his speech about fitness, too distracted by the emotional bombshell that’s just been dropped in front of her.

But the show must go on. To kick things off, Kenneth tells them they’ll be running through a series of tests and drills this afternoon, to get a baseline of where each of them are in terms of their activity levels. Once they’ve gauged that, then they’ll go from there on what awaits them for the rest of the week.

So, let’s get moving! Kenneth blows his whistle, launching us into action.

* * *

**EXT. QUINCY HIGH SCHOOL - TRACK & FIELD - DAY**

**Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Move Your Body” as performed by Sia || Performed by AAA Seniors**

The ensuing performance is split in two, the first concept being a montage of the A class running through all of the drills and fitness tests. Any student in the U.S. public school system will know them well -- push-ups, sit-ups, the pacer test. The flexed arm hang, which Nate comedically does for an impressive amount of time as if it’s nothing with those aforementioned “guns” while his fellow classmates struggle to keep themselves above bar.

They also run the track -- yes, even after the pacer! -- Kenneth recording their mile run times on his clipboard. There’s jumping jacks, stretches, toe reaches, etc. It’s a montage full of the most active and athletic-y of things (and this writer’s worst nightmares).

**INT. QUINCY HIGH SCHOOL - GYMNASIUM - DAY**

Then, the rest of the number is dominated by a fun and energetic dance routine. The gym takes on a theater-like ambience, stage lights casting it in dramatic shadow but illuminating the A class seniors. It’s structured and staged like a cheer routine almost, all of them standing in formation with Maya and Zay at the front. They’re now in fictitious Adams gym uniforms, all sleek black and silver and much cooler than an actual gym uniform would ever be.

For how wide a range of ability they have in other athletics, they’re performing the precise and punchy choreography with impressive coordination. Like lest we forget they’re expert at _something_ , even if their fitness forte is only so-so. It’s also the most distinctly pop choreography we’ve seen them do as a group.

They end the number by dropping to the ground, symbolically caving to unanimous exhaustion on the squeaky gym floor. The lights go out, sending everything into darkness.

* * *

**INT. JACK’S GYM - DAY**

Jack and Lucas emerge from the locker rooms, now more aptly dressed for a workout. Jack leads the way through all the nice equipment, declaring that he wants to start with his favorite activity before they get into all the assessments. He grins when they arrive at the proper corner, a punching bag suspended from the ceiling.

Lucas just stares at him, then the punching bag. It’s hard to wrap his head around.

> **Lucas:** Boxing.  _ You _ box?

> **Jack:** You bet I do. Kickboxing, specifically, though I’ve dabbled a bit in all forms. It’s a great stress reliever, and as you can imagine, I have a lot of stress.

It’s still hard to believe. Lucas stays where he is, uncertain, as Jack gets everything set up and jostles the bag around a little bit. Then he holds it steady, meeting his eyes.

> **Jack:** And now, I’m going to teach you. _ [ a beat ] _ You know, provided you can keep up.

Lucas isn’t going to just give Jack a win, so he shakes off his surprise and steps over to join him. Jack moves to stand opposite him and keep watch, instructing Lucas on the proper stance to take and how to channel his movements. Kickboxing isn’t about reckless, thoughtless aggression -- it’s strategic, careful strikes. Directing all that energy pent up inside him in concrete directions, towards something, towards a thing that is _meant_ to take it.

So Lucas squares his shoulders and gives it a shot, throwing a punch. It’s a bit nerve wracking, like treading ground he tries to stay far away from. But Jack commends him, offering just a few notes of guidance before encouraging him to go again. They’re just warming up after all.

Lucas takes a deep breath, shaking off his nerves. He directs another hit, his fist flying right towards the camera --

**INT. QUINCY HIGH SCHOOL - GYMNASIUM - DAY**

What lands isn’t a punch, but Farkle, collapsing onto one of the bleachers. He lets out a dramatic groan, drenched in sweat.

> **Farkle:** That was torture. Systemic, institutionalized torture. This is breaking the Geneva Conventions.

Much of the class seems to agree, worn out as they spread out on the bleachers. The only ones who seem in good spirits are Nate, Maya, and Zay, who continue to bounce on their feet and stretch in front of them. Like, come on, wimps! Keep up!

Kenneth finishes conferring with Eric and Harper and then saunters over to join them again, congratulating all of them on an afternoon full of blood, sweat, and… tears? He raises his eyebrows at Asher, who yes, was definitely crying. He shrinks lower on the bleachers, swiping at his flushed cheeks.

So yes, and tears. All proof of a determined, dedicated effort. They should be proud! But now it’s time for the results -- who made the cut and who did not. There are three categories: those who passed, those who did not, and those few who came out the cream of the crop in their class. Kenneth says he’ll read out the names of those who excelled and those who fell under par. Those who are not singled out passed at normal standards, and should consider themselves good. They get to simply enjoy the activities for the rest of the week.

Starting with the underdogs…

> **Kenneth:** The following students did not meet the benchmarks on one or more of the fitness tests. Listen up for your name.  _ [ reading from the clipboard ] _ Jade Beamon --

JADE BEAMON grimaces, pushing the flyaways from her ponytail out of her face. Nigel pats her on the back reassuringly, rubbing her shoulder.

> **Kenneth:** Clarissa Cruz. Isadora De La Cruz. Asher Garcia --

Asher whimpers, hiding his head in his hands. He’s probably going to start crying again.

> **Kenneth:** And Farkle Minkus.  _ [ scanning to find Farkle ] _ Minkus?

> **Farkle:** _ [ raising his hand, but not sitting up ] _ Present.

> **Kenneth:** I have to say, you really left an impression. You failed every test. These are the worst scores I’ve ever seen, and I’ve been doing this for a long time.

> **Maya, amused:** There’s no one in the world quite like him.

> **Kenneth:** The good news is, for all of you, that this is not the end all be all. You have the rest of the week to train and pump yourselves up, and then I will readminister the tests on Friday morning. I’ll also let each of you know which tests you failed, so you can focus your training.

Woo… yay. They look absolutely thrilled about that. Nigel quietly assures Jade he’ll help her train. Asher buries his head deeper in his arms, trying to disappear.

Now, onto the accolades!

> **Kenneth:** These six students tested in the highest score range, and demonstrated some serious athletic ability. They’re fast, they’re flexible, and they’re the best of the best from Adams this year.

Kenneth instructs them to come down to the gym floor from the bleachers when he calls their name. And so, the top six:

> **Kenneth:** Isaiah Babineaux. Maya Hart. Nate Martinez. Dylan Orlando. Dave Williams. And Darby Winters.

Okay, star athletes! The six of them congregate down at the front, definitely the least winded of their class. Kenneth commends all of them again for their strong showing -- but will it be enough to beat _their_ best? He explains the longstanding _other_ aspect of fitness week, which is a tournament-style friendly competition between Adams and Quincy seniors.

Thus, he blows his whistle, and the Quincy players jog in to make their entrance. Their crew of six includes Summer and Dominic, but also VANESSA JOHNSON. We met her at the students of color mixer last year, doing a pretty sharp rendition of a Fifth Harmony tune. But here she’s all business, leading the Quincy six with a determined glare towards the A class. Zay eyes her with a squint, trying to place where he knows her from.

Once they’re all lined up and facing one another, Kenneth describes how the tournament will unfold -- first with basketball, then volleyball, and then finally a relay race on Friday after the retest. And may the best school win! He has them shake on it, instilling good sportsmanship from the get-go.

So the teams of six go down the line and shake hands, though the action is pretty stilted. When Zay and Vanessa grasp hands, it’s especially stiff, a coldness in her gaze as they lock eyes. Zay frowns, good at reading people but not sure what he did to earn her derision so quickly. They haven't even had the chance to best their asses yet.

**INT. JACK’S GYM - DAY**

Lucas is much sweatier than earlier, indicating he put in a good workout even with all his joking around. Jack returns and hands him a bottle of water, the two of them settling down on one of the benches as they take a breather. Jack comments that Lucas passed the fitness tests, so they don’t need to worry about that. Even so, it might be wise for him to continue coming here and doing some activity this week, just so Yancy stays off their backs.

> **Lucas:** Fine by me. It’s not another Maya Hart performance, so.

> **Jack:** Oh? Are you admitting that it  _ wasn’t _ the worst thing in the world?

> **Lucas:** Perhaps kickboxing is a  _ little _ enjoyable. Though it’s still weird that you do it.

Give it up, Jack. You’re never gonna win with him. Lucas tries to question what exactly is up with Yancy anyway, but Jack avoids the topic. He doesn’t want to give the impression that he doesn’t have everything under the control, least of all to Lucas. He doesn’t want him thinking it’s his fault, when he has absolutely nothing to do with it.

Thankfully, Lucas doesn’t push further. He takes advantage of the change in subject, tentatively broaching a different topic. After considering it more fully, Lucas has determined that maybe, _potentially_ , he might run for president. Jack’s eyebrows shoot up, but he seems pleased by the announcement.

> **Jack:** I’m sorry, did I hear that correctly? Or did I work out too hard and now I’m having heat stroke --

> **Lucas:** Ha ha. So funny. I think you should let me handle the pithy asides.

> **Jack:** Don’t dish what you can’t take.

> **Lucas:** _ Anyway_, I’ve been thinking about it a lot. And I know I’m like, the worst candidate on paper, especially since I’ve openly stated how much I hate Triple A.

> **Jack:** Yeah, you’ve never been shy about that…

> **Lucas:** But I don’t know… I feel like it could be better. Like, really better, but no one takes the time to actually do it. And after everything that happened at the end of last year, I’ve been thinking way more about money. How some people can afford to buy their way into everything and do whatever, but not everybody can. In fact, most of the best people can’t. There’s gotta be way more people out there like Dylan and Yindra and Nate -- people who are talented, and belong there, but don’t even try because there’s just not enough support. And  _ aren’t _ like me, with some invisible sponsor, which you still refuse to explain to me.

> _ [ Jack makes a face, pretending to zip his lip and throw away the key. Still not budging on that topic, clearly. But it hardly matters. Lucas shrugs, contemplative. ] _

> **Lucas:** No matter how you feel about it, I think it’s pretty common consensus that the best thing about that damn school is the people. And some of the best don’t ever make it there, just because they can’t afford it. I know we can’t just magically create funding, but… maybe, if there were someone in charge who cared…

Then things could change. Yeah. Jack absorbs this, unable to hold back a smile. It’s nice, seeing Lucas so passionate about something, even in an understated way.

> **Jack:** Well, I won’t tell you what to do either way. But it sounds good, your platform. Maybe you’re not the perfect candidate on paper, but you have vision. Things you want to see change. I’ll tell you, in this day and age, I think that’s the thing that matters more than anything.

Not to mention, it’ll look _great_ on college applications. Seems like sort of a win-win. He’s got until the end of the week to figure it out, but he needs to get his intent form to Jack by the end of Friday. Lucas nods, aware of the deadline. Lots to decide…

**INT. QUINCY HIGH SCHOOL - CAFETERIA - DAY**

An unexpected pairing, Isadora and Dominic walk into a cafeteria much larger than the one we’re used to at Triple A. There are echoes of students being there — items left behind on the tables and benches that will end up in the lost and found — but no people to be found. We quickly realize that this is the final stop on a tour of the entire school, with Dominic as her guide.

> **Dominic:** And this is the cafeteria!

He gives Isadora a charming smile and talks about what sort of lunches they usually have. He has the twinge of the classic New Yorker accent, making him even more endearing. They take a brief moment to appreciate the cafeteria before Dominic asks if she wants to head back to gym, to which Isadora scrunches up her face.

> **Isadora:** I want to stay away from gym as much as possible.

Dominic laughs. Fair enough. He sits at a nearby table and gestures for Isadora to do the same.

> **Dominic:** So why are you thinking of transferring, anyway? Triple A seems like a pretty cool place. God knows I’d rather go to a nice private place than this hellhole.

> **Isadora:** Aren’t you meant to be selling me on how great it is here?

> **Dominic:** It’s public school. Not really much I can do to make it appealing. We’ve got a good sports program, but I take it you don’t care much about that.

Once again, Isadora’s disgust is clear on her face. There’s a reason why she’s one of the failing students, after all.

> **Isadora:** Speaking of, do you think I would have to take gym if I came here? I honestly don’t think I can be in Coach Friar’s presence any more than I already have.

> **Dominic, teasing:** Already got a crush on Coach, huh? I swear, half the school is in love with him.

Isadora holds back the urge to gag. A crush on _Kenneth Friar_? Not even in her worst nightmares. But she can’t exactly share her hatred of the man with one of his fans slash students, so she holds her tongue and changes the topic.

> **Isadora:** To answer your earlier question, Triple A reminds me of my mom. That’s why I want to move.  _ [ off his questioning look ] _ Oh, she died. At the start of summer. 

> **Dominic:** Shit.

Isadora nods uneasily, looking away from Dominic as he scratches the back of his neck. Not really much to say to that... 

> **Isadora:** I’d, uh, appreciate it if you didn’t mention anything about me possibly transferring in front of my classmates. 

> **Dominic:** You haven’t told them? Seems like something you’d tell your friends.  _ [ a beat ]  _ It’s none of my business, sorry. My lips are sealed.

Isadora gives an appreciative, if awkward, smile before they both agree to go back to gym. Even exercise is better than uncomfortable social situations. Well, almost.

**INT. QUINCY HIGH SCHOOL - GYMNASIUM - DAY**

The day is basically done, the A class waiting for Eric to gather them and take them back to the homeland. Dylan is standing with Asher, rubbing his arms and assuring him that this week is not the end of the world. He’s not a _failure_.

> **Dylan:** You’re tired right now, so it feels like a lot. And I don’t think crying helped.

> **Asher, defensively:** _ [ with a sniffle ]  _ Crying always helps.

> **Dylan:** _ [ with a fond smile ]  _ But it’s just the fitness tests. RIT isn’t going to give a shit about it, and we have a whole week to figure it out anyway. Everything will be okay.

He leads Asher in a deep breath, expert at grounding him as always. Riley comes to stand with them, also looking like she could use a grounding exercise. The reason is more than obvious, her eyes trained on Kenneth across the room. He’s pleasantly chatting with Sarah, Darby, Chai, and a handful of the Quincy six. So charming, so approachable -- nothing like what they know he’s really like behind closed doors.

> **Asher:** Makes sense why Lucas is doing an alternate assignment…

Riley exchanges a heavy look with him. Dylan pats her shoulder. The three of them glare in Kenneth’s direction, disturbed.

Meanwhile, Maya makes her way over to Summer and Vanessa, winning showmanship intact. She offers another handshake and claims she’s looking forward to facing off on the court, certain they’ll make worthy opponents. Putting her best leader foot forward, as it were. Summer seems amused by the theatrics, while Vanessa remains unimpressed.

> **Vanessa:** How diplomatic of you.

> **Maya:** Yes, well, I  _ am _ running for president!  _ [ conspiratorially ]  _ And between us, ladies, I can share that the competition isn’t so fierce in that regard.

**INT. CHUBBIES - DAY**

Well, at least, not yet. Lucas rushes into Chubbies, dashing behind the counter just as JOE emerges from the kitchen. He barks at him that he’s late, Lucas cringing and apologizing as he ducks into the back room to drop his things. When he reappears with his apron in hand, he tries to save face.

> **Lucas:** Sorry, sorry. I had to shower.

> **Joe:** … I don’t wanna know. Just apron up and hit the tables. They aren’t gonna bus themselves.

Lucas nods, doing just that. He’s just starting to clear off tables when Riley enters, spotting him in the back corner. It’s obviously a relief to see him, fondness in her features especially prominent after the day she’s had. She greets him cheerfully, Lucas pausing in his cleaning long enough to allow her a kiss on his cheek.

> **Lucas:** I can’t talk long. Joe’s already on my case since I was late.

> **Riley:** Oh, I’m sure he won’t mind me. He always lets me hang around late when you’re technically supposed to kick everyone out and close up.  _ [ proudly ] _ All part of my irresistible charm.

> **Lucas:** Sure, right…

Still, Riley plays along, walking along with him while he works rather than expecting him to stop and give her his undivided attention. In fact, she starts helping him clear tables as they go, the instinct to automatically aid built into her. That, and she finds excuses to touch him whenever she can, even more touchy-feely than usual after spending all afternoon with his father.

When she asks him how _his_ afternoon went, he fills her in on the conversation he had with Jack. After the surprise of their buttoned-up principal being good at kickboxing passes, Lucas admits that he’s thinking more seriously about running for president. Riley is excited to hear it, practically bouncing on her feet.

> **Riley:** Oh my God, that’s great. That’s awesome!

> **Lucas:** Yeah, I mean, I’m still thinking about it, but --

> **Riley:** Totally. And you should think it over, definitely. But you’ll need to decide by the end of the week, that’s when the candidacy period ends.

> **Lucas:** Jack reminded me.

> **Riley:** But okay, yay! And you know I’m here to help. If you decide you do want to, like for sure, then we’ll figure out the perfect thing to say.

Lucas nods, grateful, but before he can say so, Joe passes by again. He greets Riley cheerfully enough -- as cheerful as Joe gets, at least -- before gently nudging her out of the shop unless she’s here to eat so that Lucas can actually get to work. Riley laughs, smiling bashfully and raising her hands in surrender.

Once Joe is gone, Riley and Lucas share a quick kiss before she heads out. She immediately pulls out her phone, texting Dylan…

**INT. GARCIA HOME - ASHER’S BEDROOM - DAY**

And with that, the news of Lucas’s potential candidacy spreads through the grape vine like wildfire. Dylan hears it from Riley, immediately -- and excitedly -- telling Asher as soon as he returns all fresh and pampered from his much-needed post-fitness shower.

**INT. AAA - DAY**

Then Asher tells Jade, who tells Nigel, who tells Yindra, more and more people finding out through a quick-cut montage over the next couple of hours. By the time people are regrouping at Adams for afterschool activities, the rumor is well-known.

**INT. AAA - DANCE STUDIO - DAY**

Though it still has spreading to do. While the Adams A-team are doing warm-up stretches before a training session with Harper -- at least, Maya, Zay, and Darby -- the reveal comes up as Maya is once again commenting on how the election basically feels guaranteed. I mean, Chai and _Nate_? This feels like a cinch.

> **Zay:** Actually, I heard Lucas might be running.

Maya goes ram-rod straight, stunned silent. When she regains her power of speech, her voice is sharp with disbelief.

> **Maya:** I’m sorry, you heard what?

> **Zay:** Friar might be running for president. At least, that’s what Yindra told me --

> **Maya:** _ What_?

The sheer notion of such a thing clearly freaks Maya out. She immediately sets to pacing, wondering what kind of Vaudevillian skit she’s woken up in today. This can’t be reality. And if it _is_ reality, then what sort of twisted, political mind game is Lucas playing? He hates AAA. He hates it. There’s no good reason he would want to run it…

As Maya tries to even fathom what could be motivating that dark, scary mind of his, we’re suddenly thrown into a dream sequence --

**INT. AAA - TECHNICIAN’S BOOTH - DAY**

That is to say, how _Maya_ imagines this whole decision must have come to fruition. Everything that we’re about to see is completely in her imagination, so suffice to say, it’s over-the-top and bedazzled in all the strangest ways.

* * *

**Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Be Prepared” as performed by** _**The Lion King** _ **Original Broadway Cast || Performed by Lucas James Friar (feat. AAA Techie Boys)**

_[ Lyrics specific to characters -- follow along_ [ _here_](https://docs.google.com/document/d/19TF9xz4LoTAI2-LcFqhTBF5W3LyHXAfYGnqCUJ9QZeo/edit?usp=sharing) _! ]_

Lucas starts in the technician’s booth as usual, but we can already tell this isn’t reality. Mainly because he’s wearing _eyeliner_ , some smoky theatrical emphasis on his king-of-the-underworld reputation, now fully realized. He takes the role of Scar and the opening conniving monologue, delivering it with a dramatic flair that only a Maya-dreamified Lucas James could ever dare.

> **Lucas:** I never thought Triple A... essential. It’s crude, and criminally insane. But maybe it’s got a  _ glimmer _ of potential… if allied to my vision and brain!

And we’re off, Lucas pushing away from the lighting board and descending the steps.

**INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY**

The song really kicks off as Lucas makes his way down to the back center section where his usual hyenas wait at attention -- Dylan, Asher, Nate, Jeff, and Dave. They’re all dressed in jet-black as techies do, but are also sporting the glittery black eyeliner and a certain amount of dishevelment that Maya typically perceives them to have. With the exception of Asher, all of them look as though they purposefully teased their hair into tangled, wild messes.

Lucas directs the opening verse to them, as if he’s giving orders. On the line _“even_ you _can’t be caught unawares,”_ he looks at Dave pointedly, who smiles blankly back.

Then they make their way towards the stage, ending up there by the exchange in the middle.

> **Nate:** Yeah, be prepared! Ha ha, we’ll be prepared! _ [ a beat ] _ For what?

> **Lucas:** For the death of Triple A!

> **Dave, concerned:** Oh, is it sick?

> **Lucas:** No, fool, we’re gonna kill it! And Maya Hart with it.

> **Dylan:** _ Great _ idea! Who needs government?

> **Asher/Dylan:** _ [ dancing around together ]  _ Anarchy! Anarchy! La la la la la la --

> **Lucas:** Idiots! _ [ off their startled reaction ] _ There will be a government.

> **Asher, timidly:** _ [ hugging Dylan protectively ]  _ But you just said that --

> **Lucas:** _ I _ will be president. Stick with me, and you’ll never see a performance again!

No performances _ever_?! Yay! Long live the king, long live the king!

The rest of the performance unfolds in accordance with the score. When Lucas gets to the line _“you won’t get a sniff without me!”_ he yells so theatrically loud that he sends the line of techies backwards into each other, until Nate topples over at the end. But he does the worm before launching back to his feet.

Which takes us into the final, chaotic stretch, all of the underclassmen techies acting as the backing to the musical frenzy. Dave and Nate groove on top of the acting blocks and half-built sets, while Jeff break-dances center stage. The lighting casts their shadows large against the wall, truly feeling like the pits of hell.

And there’s Lucas at the center of it all, leading a march downstage with Dylan and Asher right behind him as his right-hand men. _The king undisputed, respected, saluted!_ Lucas gives a pithy salute to the camera, leading the techies in their last rendition of the chorus. Reveling in his dark chaos, as heightened as it is.

As the groovy and frenetic orchestral swells takes us out, Lucas stands front and center while Dylan pats him on the back, looking especially smug. This is what the world will look like soon enough -- once he gets his hands on the Adams student body presidency. And what a glorious, awful world of anarchy it is! Almost as good as they all look in that eyeliner.

* * *

**INT. AAA - DANCE STUDIO - DAY**

But all predictably _mortifying_ to Maya. When we make it back to reality, she looks like she’s about to be sick.

> **Maya:** This is my  _ nightmare_.

She launches to her feet, claiming she has to get to the bottom of this before the world as they know it descends into Friar-brand madness. Zay watches her go, holding out his arms.

> **Zay:** So are we just not practicing, then?

**INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY**

Lucas and Nate are chatting on stage while the techies are doing their yearly inventory, requiring all of them back at school even after the day they’ve had. Nate assures Lucas that if he decides to run, he’s all for it. He’d support him in a heartbeat, no questions asked.

> **Lucas:** … aren’t you running?

> **Nate:** Hey, don’t worry about that, man. I’m no competition for you. I’m just running for the street cred, and I’ll make sure the crew knows what’s what. No worries about splitting the vote. Besides,  _ [ secretively ]  _ I’m planning a mid-cycle scandal that’s gonna take me right out of this thing.

Nate winks, giving him an okay signal. Lucas doesn’t even know what to say, and isn’t sure he wants to know what sort of “scandal” Nate Martinez might cook up for himself. He never gets the chance, as Maya storming onto the stage disrupts everything else.

> **Maya:** You wanna tell me what kind of fucking sickness you’ve got, Friar?

Lucas shakes his head, baffled by her outburst. He knows they don’t exactly get along, but this seems like a lot, even for her. Nate ducks behind him, not wanting to be in the cross-fire but dying to see what happens next.

> **Lucas:** What are you throwing a tantrum about now?

> **Maya:** I mean, you’ll have to spell it out for me. Make it make sense, because it sure as hell doesn’t make sense to me. How is it that all the sudden, you wanna get involved in this school, when all you’ve done for the last three years is whine and bitch and growl about how you don’t care about it and would burn it to the ground if you could? And now you wanna be fucking president? Is this a joke? Or are you really that determined to immure this place in your own brand of chaos until your dying breath?

> **Lucas:** Okay, first off, you can dial down the diva like ten bitch notches. _ [ off her scoff ]  _ Second, maybe I’m running because I actually think this shitty school could be  _ better_, unlike whatever vanity projects you’re selling like it’s the fucking New Deal.

> **Maya:** I didn’t realize you were such a comedian.  _ You _ have policy plans?

> **Lucas:** Yeah, I do. Mainly scholarships, which I think you’d fucking respect considering you wouldn’t even  _ be _ here if you didn’t have one.

Ooh. Ouch, but excellent point. Maya huffs, unable to deny that one… but that doesn’t mean she’s done stinging.

> **Maya:** At least I wanted to be here in the first place! But sure, everyone is going to vote for the jackass who spent his entire time here making everyone else as  _ miserable _ as he is. If you were trying to make a joke, congratulations, Friar. You really outdid yourself. An absolute farce, that is. Unbelievable.

Maya shakes her head, spinning on her heel and pushing through the stunned techies to make her grand exit. She certainly made her point… but is she so incensed because of what she said, or because he might actually be a threat?

Asher starts to go after her, heated, Dylan pulling him back. Lucas glares where she left, but it’s clear her words left their impact. Suddenly, the idea of running doesn't seem so rosy anymore…

**INT. CHUBBIES - DAY**

Zay, Riley, and Farkle are hanging out in the usual booth at Chubbies, Zay giving them the lowdown about Maya’s grand hurricane out of practice that afternoon. Riley cringes, obviously not excited to deal with that development, before they shift the conversation to how “training” is even going for the Adams A-team.

> **Zay:** Couldn’t tell you. If we ever actually get anything done, I’ll be sure to let you know.

This segues into discussion of the week from all three tiers of ability, Farkle the most miffed about it all. He launches into a bitchy little rant, pretty reminiscent of the more manic Farkle of seasons past, lamenting how none of this shit matters _anyway_. The national standards are bullshit and always have been, not to mention they’re outdated and literally made-up. There have been studies about this.

> **Farkle:** They’re never going to make me a scholar-athlete, so they should stop trying. If I were going to be a hunky football player with rock-hard abs and killer stamina from all the steroids I take, I would have been one by now. And maybe everyone would like me better, even with my irreversible brain damage from all those concussions, but this is the me we’re stuck with. So we should all just get used to it.

> **Zay:** I think they just want you to be able to run a mile in less than thirty minutes.

Perhaps. Farkle scowls, chomping down pointedly on his French fry. The conversation takes a turn when Charlie walks through the door, surprising all of them with his presence. It’s been ages since he’s been spotted at the diner.

Riley and Farkle greet him happily as he approaches, glad to see him, but Zay not so much. They exchange awkward eye contact, clearly not anticipating running into one another. Zay drops his gaze down to the table, Charlie unsure what to say as he comes to stand in front of them. However, Riley is an expert at navigating awkward, thanks to her parents.

> **Riley:** Do you want to sit down? _ [ nodding towards Zay ] _ We were just talking about fitness week…

Sit down? Like, next to Zay? Charlie glances to him, searching for permission, but Zay avoids the issue entirely. He clears his throat, stating that speaking of, he has to get going anyway. They’re _supposed_ to be having training that evening, so he probably shouldn’t be the one who doesn’t show up after how he was just complaining about Maya.

There’s another stiff moment after Zay has risen back to his feet, he and Charlie essentially face-to-face. There’s an opportune moment for Zay to actually address him, for one of them to break the ice… but it doesn’t happen. Zay slides past him without a word and heads out, Riley grimacing in disappointment.

Charlie takes a moment to absorb the dismissal, then slides into the spot Zay vacated. It’s still a bit awkward, but he tries his best to salvage his visit. To feel normal in the diner amongst his friends again, to not feel so extremely isolated.

> **Charlie:** So… how’s it going?

Luckily, he’s got two of the most talkative A class members at his disposal. Riley and Farkle easily fill him in on everything they’ve got going on, from the ridiculousness of fitness week to the brewing drama of the elections.

> **Charlie:** Yeah, I have to admit, Farkle, I’m surprised  _ you’re _ not running.

> **Farkle, diplomatically:** My recovery team and I deemed it unwise for me to participate in things that might accentuate my… unique personal pandemonium.

That’s one way of putting it. Charlie smiles, amused. Riley changes the subject to him, asking him how things are going on his side of the park. Charlie reluctantly admits not well, explaining his predicament with the senior-level French course.

While Riley gently questions whether it might be smart to just take the course he tested into, Farkle expresses his sympathies… by speaking in near-perfect, fluent French. Charlie watches with wide eyes as he basically does a monologue of it, amazed.

> **Charlie:** _ Shoot_, dude. Can you teach me how to do that?

_Oui, j'adorerais!_ I’d love to. Charlie brightens, but Farkle isn’t finished.

> **Farkle:** But I can’t. Unfortunately, I have to spend the entire week rehearsing exercise rather than doing anything that matters.  _ Je suis désolé_, dear Chuck.

Which, by the way, he needs to go do right now. He has an evening meeting with their family personal trainer. He bids both of them farewell, sliding out of the booth.

> **Farkle:** _ Salut_.  _ [ to Charlie, helpfully ]  _ That means --

> **Charlie, snapping:** I know what it means.

> **Farkle:** Okay,  _ d’accord_! Yik _é_...

Charlie sighs, slouching against the booth as Farkle exits. Riley gives him a sympathetic look, trying to help problem solve.

> **Riley:** You know, you could ask Zay for help. I know he’s taken a few French courses. And you know, that might be good, a good way to --

> **Charlie:** No. It’s fine. It’s… I’ll figure it out on my own. Thanks, though.

Riley frowns. Wishing there was some way to fix this unideal situation -- and not just the French of it all.

> **Harper, pre-lap:** The only way you’re going to get through this is if you work as a team.

**INT. ORLANDO COMMUNITY CENTER - GYMNASIUM - NIGHT**

The Adams A-team -- Maya, Zay, Nate, Dylan, Darby, and Dave -- are gathered at the gym in the Orlando community center, their base of operations for the week since Adams has no equipment. Harper is acting as their coach, holding a basketball in her hands.

> **Harper:** I know this is an… interesting bunch, and not your usual picks for teammates. But you’re the best of the best, and the only way you’re going to find success is if you trust each other and work together.

None of the six look particularly thrilled by that statement. Nate and Maya exchange derisive glares. Still, they’re all determined to give it their best shot, eager to get started. Harper claims they’ll start with basketball drills, since that’s their first challenge tomorrow. She bounces the ball against the court once, then launches it towards them.

* * *

**Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Why Can’t We Be Friends” as performed by Smash Mouth || Performed by AAA Seniors**

Used as an instrumental, the rocking 2000s jam acts as the score to an admittedly painful practice session between the Adams A-team. It’s about as disastrous as one could’ve predicted, as these six have no established rapport and no instincts about working together.

Zay and Maya play too aggressively, the former relying too much on himself and his own skills rather than his teammates. Nate refuses to listen to any of the performers, only tossing to Dylan and Dave -- the latter usually nowhere near ready to catch the ball because no one is giving him clear directions. Darby’s pushover habits do not translate well to the court, always hesitating too long before making a move and then apologizing profusely for flubbing the play.

Then, there’s the fact that Maya has never been -- nor will ever be -- a team player. She goes as far as to literally _shove_ Dylan to the floor during a pass, because she simply doesn’t give a shit about Twink 2. Harper blows her whistle over and over, trying to remind them about teamwork, but there’s really no hope for them at this point.

**INT. QUINCY HIGH SCHOOL - GYMNASIUM - DAY**

Which is proven loud and clear when they get their asses whooped during game 1 of the tournament. The Quincy six beat them easily, shooting circles around them and taking advantage of the fact that their opponents have no athletic expertise and no sense of team. Maya and Nate grow particularly frustrated, visibly peeved as they get annihilated on the court.

It’s excruciating to watch. Eric has to look away, Harper shrugging like “I tried.” Asher watches from between his fingers, hiding, while Isadora and Riley try their best not to show their disappointment. Yindra, on the other hand, has no such hesitation.

> **Yindra:** Pull it together, losers, this is pathetic! You’re embarrassing us!

Zay scowls at her, tossing her a middle finger. But there’s no salvaging this game, and it’s a pretty easy win for the Quincy team. Kenneth declares as much, Vanessa and Dominic exchanging high-fives. Still, Kenneth reminds them, they shouldn’t lose hope yet. There’s two more competitions to go -- provided they don’t blow tomorrow’s game as well.

* * *

It’s not fun to see the Quincy kids be so smug, though. Vanessa glances towards Zay and the Adams team, shrugging her shoulders dismissively before focusing back on her team.

**INT. QUINCY HIGH SCHOOL - GIRLS LOCKER ROOM - DAY**

Maya gripes about their humiliating loss while she and Darby are changing back into their normal clothes after the game. She works hard not to endure embarrassment like that -- this loser attitude from them is not gonna fly. Darby tries to stay positive.

> **Darby:** Well, I think it’s really more about the fun of the game.

> **Maya:** And that kind of thinking is exactly why we’re getting our asses kicked, Darby. Get your head in the game!

She slams her temporary locker, surprised to discover that they’re not alone. The Quincy cheerleader, Summer, has come to join them. Darby backs off, worried that with Maya’s current mood there might just be a blondie battle. She politely excuses herself, rushing out.

But Summer isn’t there to scrap. She commends Maya on a good game, to which she scoffs.

> **Maya:** Are you blind, or just stupid? You cannot seriously believe we played a  _ good _ game out there.

Well, no, but a good sport always wishes the other a “good game.” Summer remains pleasantly friendly even with Maya’s sharp comebacks, wearing her down enough to have an actual conversation.

> **Summer:** If I could say so, I think your problem is that you all aren’t working as a team. Like, you’re clearly capable enough, but you’re acting like individual cogs rather than a functioning machine. Not to mention y’all are like,  _ super _ stiff -- aren’t you supposed to be dancers?

> **Maya:** Dave Williams is no dancer. And I don’t get it, are you like, helping me? Offering actual advice? _ [ off her nod ]  _ Why the hell would you do that?

> **Summer:** I mean, it’s just for fun. And you’re only here for a week. Don’t get me wrong, Vanessa would be pissed if she knew I was doing this. She’s as weirdly competitive as you guys. But I feel like it’ll be more exciting if you actually give us something to play  _ against_, rather than just creaming you for the next three days.

Fair point. Maya considers this, trying to determine if her kindness is legit or some kind of ploy. For what it’s worth, it seems pretty sincere.

> **Summer:** Look, I get it. This is our turf, not yours, so it’s weird. But I also know you can figure it out. I was going to go to Adams at one point --

> **Maya, surprised:** Seriously?

> **Summer:** But I just channeled that energy into cheer instead. The flexibility, the grace, the passion. You all can find ways to channel that into other things, if you manage to work cohesively. _ [ with a smile ]  _ Just something to think about!

She gives Maya a little thumbs up, then flounces off. Maya watches her go, still suspicious and yet contemplative… the blonde beauty of Quincy might have a point or two…

**INT. JACK’S GYM - DAY**

Lucas is hanging around finishing up his activity for the day, sitting up when Dylan walks through the door with Asher and Isadora. He questions what they’re doing there.

> **Dylan:** Oh, just thought we’d pop in and see the facilities. We jumped onto Jack’s membership -- he won’t mind, right?

Lucas seems concerned by that, starting to argue, but Isadora rolls her eyes and brushes it off.

> **Isadora:** He’s kidding. Asher’s family has an account.

> **Asher:** That we never use.

> **Lucas:** And you’re here using it now… for why?

Dylan takes Isadora and Asher’s shoulders and nudges them towards him. He requests that Lucas take the rest of the week to train them before their retest on Friday -- he’s not doing anything else, and they just need to reach the benchmarks in a couple of assessments to pass.

> **Lucas:** Why don’t you do it? If you’re the best athlete at Adams or whatever.

> **Isadora:** Not much competition there.

> **Dylan:** Oh, no no, I can’t.  _ [ placing his hands over his chest ]  _ The people  _ need _ me.

Lucas rolls his eyes. Dylan assures them that he has faith in all of them, and honestly, they should consider this an easy task. _He’s_ the one who has to spend the next 48 hours with Maya Hart getting shoved to the ground. So this is nothing!

Despite their complaints, Dylan wishes them all luck and gives Asher a fond boop on the nose before breezing away.

**INT. GARDNER HOME - DAY**

AMBROSE GARDNER catches Charlie heading towards the door from his spot in the living room, asking him where he’s off to in such a rush. Charlie doubles back and quickly states that he’s going to Haverford to study. With his transfer stuff, he’s just got a lot to catch up on. Ambrose senses the stress in his voice, prodding further. He’s not having trouble with the workload, is he? What exactly is the problem?

Though it’s not in his nature to be so forthcoming, Charlie hesitantly explains the situation with the French course. Ambrose nods along, understanding his frustrations, then searches for solutions. He suggests they could get him a temporary tutor -- if they let Eleanor know, then he’s sure they could find one on short notice -- but Charlie immediately rejects that idea. He kind of snaps, uncharacteristic but growing more so by the day, that he doesn’t want to tell mom.

Why, well, he doesn’t elaborate. He reels in his outburst, apologizing and saying he shouldn’t have brought it up. It’s not that big a deal, and he’ll deal with it on his own. As he turns to head out, Ambrose calls him back. Charlie frowns to himself before he turns back around, expecting a reprimand for his tone earlier.

But that’s not what Ambrose has to say. He struggles a bit with how to articulate it, but he attempts to make it clear that Charlie _can_ ask for help. That’s always an option.

> **Ambrose:** I know transferring isn’t easy. I just want to make sure you know… we’re here to help. You’re not alone in this. And you know… you know you can talk to me about… anything that you need to…

Obviously, Charlie is not hiding his stress as well as he hoped. Even though Ambrose’s sentiment is genuine, and well-meant, it doesn’t land. Because the thing is, Charlie _doesn’t_ know what he can tell them and what he can’t. Because when you tell people things in this family, sometimes it works out, and sometimes it gets you kicked out on your own in permanent exile.

He knows it’s nuanced, and Ambrose isn’t Eleanor, but right now, it’s all just too much. So Charlie brushes off the reassurance, hollowly stating he knows before making his exit.

Ambrose watches after him, clearly concerned but not sure what to do about it.

**INT. MINKUS HOME - FITNESS ROOM - DAY**

Charlie isn’t the only one who’s stressed. Farkle is attempting to work through an aerobics routine with the family personal trainer, ANDRES, but he’s clearly not having it. After a few moments he lets out a dramatic wail, waving his hands and ceasing the activity. Andres jogs to turn off the music, Farkle huffing and place his hands on his hips.

> **Farkle:** Andres, this isn’t working for me.

Andres apologizes, suggesting alternative routines they could try, but Farkle waves him off. It’s not him, it’s Farkle. _He’s_ never going to work. They should call it quits. He should go work with his mom and Uri again -- his little brother is strangely adept at yoga. But he can’t do this.

> **Andres:** I don’t know what to tell you, junior Minkus.

> **Farkle:** And that’s why you’re useless. I mean, don’t get me wrong, your time and effort is appreciated, but  _ useless_! I’m losing my mind. I’m a lost cause. I just -- I’ve got to go. I’m going.  _ Oy vey iz mir_…

Farkle storms out, pulling out his phone. Andres doesn’t seem especially disturbed by the outburst. He’s been the Minkus family trainer for a while now. This is just another day.

**INT. CHUBBIES - DAY**

Riley seems equally vexed, camped out in the usual booth at Chubbies on her own. She’s got a chocolate milkshake half-finished on the table next to her laptop, where she’s crunching the numbers on likely campaign outcomes.

The news doesn’t look good. No matter which way she dices it, if Lucas runs and he and Maya run against each other, it seems more than probable that they’re going to split the vote. It’ll give Chai just enough of a boost to squeak out a victory.

She’s distracted from the disappointing statistics by her phone ringing, Farkle on the other end. He turns his manic rant on her, expressing that he’s a lost cause and is going to end up in squalor on the side of the road somewhere because he couldn’t pass the national fitness standards. Riley tells him to calm down -- he’s a Minkus, he will never be in squalor, and the tests don’t _actually_ mean anything -- and that she’ll brainstorm ways to help him. He’s not a lost cause, no one is.

When they hang up, Riley glances at the unpromising statistics again. Right now, Farkle’s issue seems more fixable than that. She closes her laptop, sliding out of the booth.

**INT. QUINCY HIGH SCHOOL - COUNSELOR’S OFFICE - DAY**

Isadora and Eric are welcomed into a cozy office by one of the school counselors at Quincy, MS. MOLINA, who sits behind a cluttered desk with a warm smile and frizzy hair. She apologizes for their meeting being pushed back, but there was an emergency with one of their students — nothing to be done!

Eric assures her that he understands before transitioning into questions about Isadora’s possible transfer. Isadora listens keenly but doesn’t pitch into the conversation until Ms. Molina directly asks her if she has any questions or concerns.

> **Isadora:** It seems... very big.

A bit of an understatement, but her anxiety about just how many students there are here is clear. 

> **Ms. Molina:** The difference in size from Adams would understandably be a lot to deal with, but we would do everything in our power to ensure your transition is smooth and done at the right pace for you.

> **Eric:** You mentioned an autism unit? How would that work in the day-to-day?

With the two counselors off again, discussing things that Isadora isn’t all that interested in, she looks around the office. Her attention is drawn to a framed painting of the exterior of the school that hangs on the wall. It sure is big...

* * *

**INT. HAVERFORD PREP - AUDITORIUM - DAY**

**Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Ma Solitude” as performed by Georges Moustaki || Performed by Charlie Gardner**

For someone who is supposed to be studying, Charlie isn’t doing much of it at the moment. I mean, _technically_ , he could argue he is. He’s sitting on the edge of the stage alone, strumming through the simple French classic on his guitar. It’s a lovely, understated rendition, and it’s nice to see him finding solace in music again.

That, and his French is quite good. It’s decent, at least, so you’d think he could be in the senior-level course… how hard is this damn class? His delivery is also aided by the fact that the subject matter resonates with him, as it’s a whole ballad about being terribly alone.

* * *

Depressing nature aside, it’s pretty! Riley clearly thinks as much as she sneaks her way in, glancing around at the nice auditorium before focusing on her friend’s performance. She hangs back and simply listens until he’s done, then applauds loudly, scaring the hell out of him. When he sees who is cheering for him, he’s even more confused.

> **Charlie:** Riley? What are you doing here?

> **Riley:** _ [ coming down the aisle ]  _ What, am I not allowed to visit my good friend at his stomping grounds? And while he’s singing a neat little song?

Charlie clears his throat, obviously embarrassed.

> **Charlie:** _ How _ did you get in here?

> **Riley:** Oh, that part was nothing. One of the boys let me in. Female-attracted men are so easy. All you have to do is smile, bat the eyelashes, maybe throw a nose crinkle in there, and they’ll do whatever you want. Believe me, it works on Lucas all the time.

> **Charlie:** Okay, well, that’s incredibly hard to believe without seeing it for myself. _ [ a beat ]  _ And I’m not sure I want to.

Suit yourself, Charles. He asks _why_ Riley stopped by, since she so easily answered his other questions. She comes to stand at the front of the stage, tilting her head at him.

> **Riley:** I know you’ve got a lot going on, and I respect that. But I was wondering if you could help me with something.

Charlie seems hesitant, but not immediately opposed. What could it possibly be…

**INT. ORLANDO COMMUNITY CENTER - GYMNASIUM - NIGHT**

The Adams A-team are at the community center late into the evening, having spent all afternoon and evening running drills with the volleyball net. Only now, Dave and Dylan are sprawled on the floor, staring at the ceiling. At this point they’ve lost their fire -- all except Maya and Nate, who are both pacing and shouting about what they should be doing to improve their chances of winning. Darby sits with her head against her knees, trying to block out their argument.

That is, until it escalates to near-violence. Maya lightly shoves Nate away from her, which sets him off, Zay having to jump between them and snap about their ridiculousness. They’re exactly the reason they can’t manage to do anything right.

> **Nate:** Oh, right. Of course, it’s my fault. Blame the techie! Blame the asexual baddie!

> **Maya:** _ Baddie_? Oh my fu --

> **Zay:** Not you two  _ literally_, although you don’t make good cases for yourselves. I meant the way you’re behaving.

Zay highlights the same things Summer did, that the reason they have no chance of winning is because they can’t work as a team. They’re out of their element, on unfamiliar terrain, so they’re too stiff. And the fact that they don’t trust each other doesn't help, but they’re going to have to shake it off if they want even a shot at victory and not being royally humiliated again.

> **Dylan:** _ [ sitting upright ] _ Shake it off?

> **Maya:** Don’t you dare start singing T-Swift, Orlando!

> _ [ Dylan deflates, glowering at her. Then Zay holds up a hand, an idea striking him. ] _

> **Zay:** No, wait. Dylan might be onto something.

> **Dylan, hopefully:** Taylor?

> **Zay:** No, not that.

> **Dylan:** _ [ falling onto his back with a sigh ] _ Tartar sauce.

Zay was thinking about music. Music might help loosen them up. Part of the reason Quincy has the advantage is that they’re playing on their turf. It’s their home, they’re used to it. It feels stiff to the A class, so they’re gonna be stiff.

> **Zay:** So maybe what we need to do is bring some of our usual crazy to their court.

> **Dave, wisely:** We do usually fix everything through song.

Sure do, Dave! And it rarely fails! The group of them contemplate, starting to come around and regain some of their energy.

> **Darby:** Okay, so how do we do that? If we even can.

> **Zay:** Thing is, before we even try, we gotta acknowledge that it’s not going to magically solve all our problems. Even if we shake it up, it’s not going to make us play like a team. We  _ have _ to put the bullshit aside and think as a united front, as Adams rather than individual players. Can we manage that? Even for just three days?

Naturally, everyone looks to Nate and Maya. They eye each other, debating… before agreeing. If it saves them from humiliation and gets them closer to victory, then sure, it’s worth a shot.

> **Maya:** Got nothing to lose, so.

> **Nate:** And if we’re bringing the crazy, I think I’ve got just the track.

Intrigue! Zay gathers them, putting his hand out. The rest of them layer their hands on top, banding together for the first time all episode -- and perhaps ever, really.

**INT. JACK’S APARTMENT - NIGHT**

There’s a knock at the door, Jack stepping out from his bedroom to answer. It’s pretty late, so he’s already dressed for bed, but he moves with purpose as he goes to open the door.

Because he’s not unfamiliar with this kind of late-night appearance. When he pulls open the door, Lucas is standing on the other side. Sheepish, but there anyway. The reason for why goes without saying, if the hurried way he’s thrown on a jacket and his backpack is any indication.

Jack lets him in without comment, shutting the door behind him.

**INT. JACK’S APARTMENT - MOMENTS LATER**

Lucas gets situated in Jack’s living room a few minutes later, Jack retrieving some stashed away bedding for the couch from underneath the shelf next to it. It’s clear this is not an uncommon routine now, something both of them are prepared for when the event arises. Lucas is still shy but grateful for the refuge, thanking Jack as he hands him the stuff.

The two of them are able to actually converse about what’s going on, more than even just last spring. But it’s still indirect, never an actual confirmation or definition.

> **Jack:** Do you know what triggered it this time? Was there a reason?

> **Lucas:** I don’t know. There never is. At least, not a good one.

Jack frowns, shaking his head. Lucas slouches back against the couch, thoughtful for a moment, before he speaks again.

> **Lucas:** It’s honestly not even that bad anymore. I mean, it would be, in a literal sense, if I hung around. But I just mean like… when I’ve got other stuff going on, places to be, it’s like I don’t even have to deal with it, really. Between school and Chubbies and being out with people, it’s almost like I can avoid it. Most days.  _ [ a beat ] _ It’s just sometimes when I happen to be home is when he happens to get into one of those moods, and things just… line up that way.

> **Jack:** Shouldn’t be that way. That’s not how you should have to think. _ [ frustrated ] _ If there was more that… if I could just do something --

> **Lucas:** But you can’t.  _ [ with a shrug ]  _ So we do what we have to do. I don’t think it’s worth getting worked up over at this point.

> **Jack:** It is. Just because you’re dealing with it doesn’t mean it’s not wrong.

> **Lucas:** Yeah, I know that’s  _ your _ opinion. You think I don’t know why you’ve been avoiding fitness week? _ [ off Jack’s sulky expression ] _ Usually  _ you _ go to Quincy with the seniors. Not Eric. And I know it’s not because you’re too busy, since you were able to teach me how to box.

Yes, well… you’ve got him there, Lucas. For all the things Jack tries to keep below the surface, he knows Lucas is smart and observant. Some things are bound to slip through the cracks and show his cards. He maintains his elusivity, though, releasing a sigh and shrugging.

> **Jack:** Things change.

That they do. Especially with more information. But what isn’t going to change right now is this situation, so they’ll have to make do. Lucas manages a thin smile, trying to convey that it’s okay. For now, it has to be okay. Jack relents, mirroring the weak smile.

**INT. QUINCY HIGH SCHOOL - GYMNASIUM - DAY**

Kenneth blows his whistle bright and early Wednesday morning, welcoming the Adams students back to Quincy and winding us up for the second tournament -- volleyball. The net has been set up behind him accordingly.

The only thing missing… is the Adams A-team. The Quincy six are stretching on the court while they wait for their opposition, Vanessa raising her eyebrows at the empty other side of the net. Kenneth jokes with Eric about where his troops are. Bowing out already? Eric doesn’t seem sure how to respond, to the query or to Kenneth in general, but he’s saved from having to when the six finally arrive.

And they are certainly _here_. The six of them strut in confidently, dressed even more wildly than the A class was on Monday. They’ve purposefully gone all out to appear as absolutely insane, outlandish, and in Maya’s case, glam as possible. We’re talking Dylan in a bright yellow crop top and patterned sport shorts and Maya in a sparkly workout leotard like some ‘80s music video.

There’s a _lot_ going on. But of course, that’s the point. The A-team looks way more comfortable and thus on their game, their brand of wackiness making them right at home. The Quincy six are less so, staring at them with wide eyes.

> **Vanessa:** You’ve got to be kidding me.

Oh, but they aren’t, baby V! Zay tells Kenneth and Eric that they’re ready to play as the rest of them take up positions on the court. Maya buzzes up next to him and lifts a finger.

> **Maya:** We just have one teensy tiny request. A little game music.

I mean… what’s Kenneth gonna do, say no? They’re long shots anyway. He shrugs, granting them that wish. Maya grins, nodding to Yindra in the bleachers as they jog to their spots. Yindra pulls out a boombox -- more decorative than an actual device, as it just has an aux cord -- and cues up Nate’s chosen anthem.

* * *

**Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Talk Dirty” as performed by Jason Derulo || Instrumental**

The Adams A-team loosens up as the raunchy radio hit kicks off, really putting them back in their element of crazy. The Quincy kids look at them with disbelief.

> **Vanessa:** You’ve  _ got _ to be kidding me.

Kenneth tosses the volleyball to Summer to serve, starting off the game. As he blows his whistle the song launches into the first verse, sending us into a montage of the tournament.

The trick works exactly as intended. The ridiculousness gives the Adams kids a distinctive edge, as if they’re playing on their turf. They’re loose, confident, leaning into the weird and having fun with it as they go. They do little dances after plays, exchange high-fives. Nate and Maya are especially effective at taunting as the “asexual baddies,” shaking their booties and ragging on the Quincy team when they make a good play.

And they make some really good plays. Zay and Maya work well as de facto co-captains, calling who stays where and serving some good passes. Dylan dives to the ground more than once to save a set, allowing someone else to launch it back over the net. Dave is great at blocking hits, and Darby has a killer spike. Actually, as the game unfolds, it seems like she might have a hidden talent for volleyball.

In the bleachers, the A class adds to the spectacle, dancing along with the music and rallying for the A-team. Yindra leads the get-down, keeping the volume loud. Jade tries to make a comment to Asher and he shushes her, waving her down as he keeps his focus squarely on the court (well, on one crop-topped player in particular). Come on, Jade, he’s trying to watch the game! This is the most fun he’ll have all week!

The Quincy six are completely off their game due to the shenanigans. They let passes fumble, fall victim to Darby’s spikes, and generally screw up the more the lunacy gets to them. Vanessa looks especially miffed, snapping at her teammates and tightening her ponytail. Dominic shakes his head after a particularly strong score for Adams, dumbfounded.

* * *

Ultimately, Adams comes out the victor. Darby lands one last spike that puts them over the edge and they erupt into cheers, Nate and Maya jeering at the Quincy kids with no shame. Kenneth blows his whistle to call it, the A-team coming together in a semblance of a huddle and jostling each other around. That’s the AAA power at full play, folks! Don’t forget it!

> **Kenneth:** Round 2 goes to Adams!  _ [ a beat ]  _ By methods I don’t think this gym has  _ ever _ witnessed.

And what about it? A win is a win! Whether they’ll be able to pull off the same type of miracle at the relay race in two days remains to be seen. Vanessa looks pointedly pissed, not happy about having been shown up so… absurdly.

Kenneth dismisses them and Eric gestures for the A class to start heading out. The A-team hangs back to help dismantle the volleyball net and clean up, which maybe isn’t the best thing, because Maya is a sore winner. She keeps up the taunts as the schools work together to strike the net, Nate jumping in because it’s tomfoolery, and he can never pass up tomfoolery.

Vanessa rises to the bait, Zay having to step in and keep things from getting too heated. Only she’s just as fiery with him, and manages to elicit some venom from him, too. It takes Summer to redirect the face-off, who suggests channeling the competitive spice into a different form.

> **Summer:** If we want stakes, we can make stakes. Why don’t we make this a little more interesting?

> **Maya:** Now you’re talking. That’s the best thing any of you has said all week.

> **Zay:** Depends. What  _ exactly _ are we talking?

> **Vanessa:** What’s the matter? You chickenshit, Babineaux?

Zay scowls, pride taking over. He holds her glare.

> **Zay:** Bring it on.

> **Dave:** I’m not allowed to bet. Not after the incident with the pastila.

> **Dominic:** How about this. We all like Chubbies, right?

> **Nate:** The diner?

> **Maya:** The place you all are always so desperately trying to annex into Quincy territory like the Russians devouring Ukraine? Yes, we’re aware how you all like to congregate at our spot.

> **Vanessa:** _ Your _ spot --

> **Dominic:** It’s that exact turf war that I’m thinking of. Let’s say this: winner of tomorrow, and thus the tournament, gets dominance over Chubbies every Friday for the rest of the semester.

> **Maya:** Why just semester? Why not make it the whole year if you want to make this interesting?

> **Dylan:** Okay, well, let’s not get too hasty --

Oh, we’re past hasty, Dylan. But all of them agree to the Friday semester deal. Still, they’re not entirely finished.

> **Vanessa:** That’s fun, but surely we could do better than that.

> **Zay:** Such as?

> **Vanessa:** Chubbies is great, but it’s not high-stakes. It’s not personal.

> **Dylan:** Speak for yourself.

> **Summer:** I get what you mean, V. Something more… intimate.

> **Darby:** Um, I don’t know about that...

> **Vanessa:** No worries, you don’t have to participate. Only those who have the balls can take on the second bet. No harm, no foul.

With that excuse, Darby, Dave, and Dylan fall back pretty fast, as well as half the Quincy crew. Now it’s just Maya, Nate, and Zay having a spitting contest with Vanessa, Summer, and Dominic -- and it’s probably not going to end well. They volley back and forth on logistics and what they could possibly do to up the stakes, when finally Summer seems to land on something.

> **Summer:** Does Adams have spirit wear?

> **Nate:** What kind of a question is that?

> **Vanessa:** Can you blame her for not knowing? We know Quincy does, because we’re normal. Who knows what your elitist school has -- you don’t even have a gym.

> **Zay, sharply:** Yes, we have spirit wear.

> **Maya:** Why’s it matter?

> **Summer:** I’m just thinking… Quincy has a pretty wide variety of spirit wear. In the spirit of fitness week, I’m wondering if we couldn’t incorporate a little memorabilia… little being the key word.

Summer elaborates, pitching her idea. Since neither of them would want to be caught dead sporting the looks of the other school, the losers on Friday have to don the opposing school spirit wear and go stand out in public showing it off all day on Saturday.

> **Zay:** You must think we have a whole day to kill.

> **Maya:** And I’d take that easy. Maybe if you wear some Adams gear, even a tiny sparkle of our superiority will rub off on you.

> **Summer:** I wasn’t finished.  _ [ off their intrigued looks ]  _ As for  _ what _ the losers wear… nothing but the  _ shorts _ of the other school -- in the smallest size that’ll fit.

Summer makes one quick amendment that the girls can opt to also wear a camisole, if they deem it necessary. But bottom line, the losers are going to be exposed, likely cold, and very very humiliated. _Now_ we’re talking stakes!

Darby looks glad she backed down, but those still playing are fired up by the excitement. Maya is particularly enthused, agreeing they’re on and extending her hand to shake on it. Summer accepts and seals the deal, locking them into a potentially embarrassing fate come Friday.

**INT. QUINCY HIGH SCHOOL - LOCKER ROOM - DAY**

Though as willing as they all were to get in on the bet, the rest of the Quincy team is not so stoked. They complain to Vanessa, Dominic, and Summer about the conditions, stating that they don’t want to give up their Fridays at Chubbies. The Adams kids are annoying and territorial about that place as it is, and they have the advantage of closer distance so they always pack it before they can get a good table. Now they’re going to just _hand_ them the diner?

Dominic points out that’s a pretty defeatist perspective, since it could hand _them_ the diner when Adams loses on Friday. The other teammates point out there’s no guarantee of that. Look at the stunt they pulled today! Summer tries to argue that it’s just a game and she’s acting in the spirit of friendly competition, but Vanessa isn’t on the same page. She snaps at her classmates, emphasizing Dominic’s take that they’re knocking on themselves pretty fast.

> **Vanessa:** What, those weirdos show up with a ridiculous dance and whack-ass outfits one time and suddenly you all are convinced  _ we’re _ the losers? Some fighting spirit this crew has got!

> **Quincy Student:** Oh, let up, Vanessa. You were the one who had to raise the stakes.

> **Quincy Student 2:** Like we know, you hate Adams. You think they’re privileged. We get it. Do we have to risk our Chubbies subs to stick it to them?

Vanessa ignores their disdain, rallying them instead. She jumps onto one of the benches between lockers and takes them to task, reminding them that Quincy hasn’t lost the fitness week tournament in over a decade. No way are they gonna change that now. They’re the badasses, the ones who have what it takes -- and they’re going to run these Adams prisses into the ground.

* * *

**Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Motivation” as performed by Normani || Performed by Vanessa Johnson (feat. Quincy Seniors)**

Even if she doesn’t like it, Vanessa clearly has the chops to be at AAA in another life. She’s a vocal powerhouse with confident delivery to rival the divas, and her rendition of the pop hit is a strong rallying cry. She uses it to bring some enthusiasm and energy back to the Quincy team, pulling them into the number.

Summer joins her pretty quickly, and from there it’s like knocking down dominos. The two of them have an infectious energy impossible to resist, and before long all of them are grooving around the locker room and making their way back into the school.

**INT. QUINCY HIGH SCHOOL - HALLWAY - DAY**

It seems that maybe the A-team’s crazy was contagious, because Vanessa and the crew take on the usual _AMBITION_ freedom of imagination as they run through the rest of the performance. They make their way through the halls of Quincy, unfamiliar to us but clearly very familiar to them, taking us on a long, continuous shot dance through the main hall of the school.

Vanessa remains front and center leading the charge, but the others keep up well. Summer is particularly impressive, putting her cheer skills to good use as she does some fun moves and a cartwheel or two.

Overall, a fun and admirable display for those normal Quincy kids. And they’re certainly motivated now! Let’s go, Q High, let’s go --

* * *

**INT. AAA - JACK’S OFFICE - DAY**

Eric stops by Jack’s office the next morning, the two of them touching base about how the week is going. Jack mentions that he excused Isadora and Asher from Quincy today to go with Lucas instead, so they could dedicate time to preparing for the fitness tests. Eric lets him know about Adams’ decent showing at volleyball yesterday -- albeit unconventional. Jack laughs, claiming that’s about exactly what he would expect from the A class. He’s sorry he missed it.

Yeah… that’s something Eric wanted to talk about, too. He gently broaches the topic of Jack’s absence, pointing out that typically he comes with them to fitness week. And yes, the seniors don’t _know_ that, but most of them know. He doesn’t think it’s the end of the world that he’s not there, but in his opinion, they probably would appreciate if he was there. Especially tomorrow, with the high stakes of the relay race and everything.

> **Eric:** I know why you don’t want to be there. Why it feels like you can’t. You know I know. And I can think of a dozen plausible excuses for you not to be there, least of all our newest administrator.

> _ [ Jack fiddles with his pen, avoiding his gaze. But he’s definitely listening. ] _

> **Eric:** But it would mean something to the kids. I guess… what’s more important? Avoiding your own discomfort, or showing up for the students?  _ [ shrugging ]  _ I’ve got your back whatever you decide, but that’s my final pitch.

And it’s a good one. Jack doesn’t give him a definitive answer, but he nods to let him know he heard him. Once Eric leaves him alone, he lets out an exhale, rubbing his chin.

**EXT. NEW YORK STREETS - DAY**

There’s a lot of tension in the air that Thursday, with only one day left until many trials on Friday. No one presents this agitation better than Farkle, who is on another anti-athletics rant as he and Riley make their way down the street. They’re both dressed for aerobics, Riley leading the way to an undisclosed location while he continues to ramble.

> **Farkle:** I mean, look what we’ve been driven to. Truancy. You and me, Riley, the shining pillars of integrity in the A class --

> **Riley:** Okay, I don’t know if I would say  _ that_…

> **Farkle:** Running amok on the streets of NYC rather than attending athletics at Quincy. That alone should be proof that fitness week is an instrument of torture, and has a reprehensible impact on its victims.

> **Riley:** Yeah, well, I could definitely use a break from… things at Quincy.

> **Farkle:** Believe me, I’m right there with you. Literally. Although, I must again point out that I have no idea where we are or where we’re going.

Thankfully, Riley proclaims, they’re basically there. She nods for Farkle to keep up, jogging her way towards their destination.

**EXT. HAVERFORD PREP - TRACK & FIELD - DAY**

They’ve simply changed the school they’re visiting, coming at Haverford from the back end rather than the prestigious front campus. Farkle takes in the track, bleachers, and modest football field -- Haverford’s athletics department isn’t much to brag about, but it’s _something_ \-- questioning what the hell they’re doing there. Riley tentatively claims they’re broadening their intra-school horizons… and getting help from a friend.

The “friend” becomes obvious pretty quickly, Charlie waiting for them on the track. He’s out of uniform and back in athletic wear, looking a little more like himself because of it. They’re not dancing, but he’s dressed like he could be, and he’s smiling as he greets them. Farkle, on the other hand, is not grinning.

> **Farkle, woefully:** Oh, not you!

> **Charlie:** Nice to see you too, Farkle. (: Hear you need some help with fitness week.

Riley explains that Charlie was kind enough to dedicate some time today helping Farkle get into better shape before his tests again tomorrow. This is a big deal, she reminds him, since Charlie has his own exams to study for. As sweet as that is, it can’t beat Farkle’s theatrical objections.

> **Farkle:** So that’s your big solution to my sporting conundrum? Send Charlie Gardner in to fix me? What, I’m supposed to just take uplifting encouragement and advice from this...  _ [ bitingly ] _ sexy Catholic? Haven’t your people done enough?

> _ [ Charlie scoffs out a laugh, amused and faux offended. ] _

> **Farkle:** This is like telling a child with dyscalculia to be tutored by Pythagoras. What good is he gonna do me when he was brought into this Earth beautiful and fit with his little dancer genomes? Blessed by Hermes and Aphrodite themselves. This is just offensive.

> **Charlie:** Considering your Catholic bit earlier, I think being blessed by Greek gods would probably be heretical…

> **Riley:** Well, blessed or not, right now he’s your only hope.  _ [ crossing her arms ]  _ You going to accept divine intervention, or give up?

Charlie smirks, matching Riley’s challenging posture and eyebrow raise. Farkle glares at both of them, grumpy, before he lets out a dramatic sigh and raises his hands in surrender.

> **Farkle:** Fine. Fine! The Catholics win again.

That’s the spirit! Sort of! Charlie says as much, promising Farkle they’ll get him through the worst of it if he just keeps up that energy. Better to work through this with allies than try to power through alone. Charlie starts a quick jog in place to mimic that energy, trying to get Farkle to do it too. He goes as far as to do a jaunty little lap around Farkle, who eyes him in annoyance until he ends up back by Riley.

> **Farkle:** I literally already want to throttle you, but okay. Let’s just get this over with. Maybe if I’m lucky I’ll die during this and then none of this will matter.

> **Riley:** Heavy on the suicidal ideation there, buddy.

> **Farkle:** Only theoretical, and this situation merits it. _ [ scowling at Charlie ] _ Fix me, Gardner. Do your worst.

Charlie beams, starting a jog backwards and leading them onto the track. Riley nudges Farkle forward, grinning as she follows after them.

**INT. JACK’S GYM - DAY**

Lucas is with Asher and Isadora, all of them dressed in their version of workout gear and getting ready for a long day of training. Asher is clearly dreading it, and Isadora doesn’t look pumped either, but Lucas reminds them of the relatively low stakes. This is one meaningless test, basically made up, that they just have to eek by to pass.

> **Lucas:** You both were only a few marks off from passing, so if you can just muster the energy to hit those benchmarks, you’ll be done. And then you can forget about it forever.

> **Isadora:** So, what? Are you going to make us star athletes in a day?

> **Lucas:** No, there’s no hope there. And I don’t deal in dreams.

> **Asher:** Poetic. Thanks for the support, meatball.

> **Lucas:** What you’re going to channel is your  _ anger_. If skill can’t get you where you need to be? Next best option is spite.

Lucas would sure know all about that. It’s an interesting prospect, hesitant as they seem about it. Now, it’s time to unlock feral Asher and hone him.

> **Lucas:** So let’s go, spaghetti.

As the drum line kicks off…

* * *

**INT. ORLANDO COMMUNITY CENTER - GYMNASIUM - DAY**

**Song Cue ♫ ♪ “I’ll Make A Man Out Of You” from** _**Mulan** _ **|| Performed by Zay Babineaux & Maya Hart (feat. AAA Seniors)**

Zay is marching along the A-team, standing at rapt attention in their workout gear. He gives them a rousing speech with the war drums underscoring him, really accenting his delivery. Maya occasionally interjects, the true drill sergeant of the two.

> **Zay:** There’s a lot at stake tomorrow, boys and Darby. Not just Chubbies, and my pride, but the pride of Adams. The honor and legacy of the A class rests on our shoulders during that relay race, but we’re gonna run it like we’re light as feathers.

> **Maya:** Or else be failures for the rest of our lives.

> **Zay:** There is no such thing as failure --

> **Maya, whispering:** There is.

> **Zay:** But even if there were, we wouldn’t know it. The only ones that are gonna know failure are the Quincy bitches. Adams came before Quincy Adams, and as much as they wanna be us, they’re never gonna be us.

> **Maya:** I have no fucking clue whether that’s true because I don’t give a damn about ancient history, but damn right.

> **Zay:** This is a bloody war we’re about to win, but by the skin of our teeth --

> **Maya:** Weird expression.

> **Zay:** We’re going to come out victorious. Because, God damn it, we’re crazy as fuck, and if anyone can pull this off, it’ll be us. So stand tall, A-team!

With that, Zay launches into the opening verse, cueing our grand hype training montage. Zay and Maya trade off the verses, the rest of the A class coming in on the vocals with the chorus.

For the A-team, they’re running drills hard as they work up their sprint times and stamina. Maya is a devil with the stopwatch, making all of them run laps again and again. They also do other endurance things, like running through tires, because that’s a fun visual. Mainly, they practice passing the baton off to one another, trying to approximate the actual race experience to the best of their ability.

**EXT. HAVERFORD PREP - TRACK & FIELD - DAY**

For Riley, Charlie, and Farkle, it’s less a matter of endurance and more a matter of getting Farkle to do… anything. He’s dragging his feet -- literally -- for most of their workout. Charlie and Riley practically pull him along the track at one point, each tugging him by one gangly arm. Charlie also runs in tandem with him, trying to get him to run faster, while Farkle cusses him out and Riley keeps time on her phone stopwatch.

The main task for them aside from the track is doing runs up and down the bleachers. It’s an _excellent_ aerobic technique, and it’s absolutely killing Farkle. He collapses onto the stairs, hiding in a crouch and claiming he’s done. Riley rouses him back up.

**INT. JACK’S GYM - DAY**

Most amusing of all, though, is watching Lucas hone Asher and Isadora into spite machines. They’re doing assortments of typical exercises they’ll have to retest, like sit-ups and push ups and the flexed arm hang, but all while basically being absolutely feral. They also work with the punching bag as Jack taught Lucas, landing some sick punches.

Isadora is no stranger to her anger, but it’s clear this is really doing something for Asher. He lets out a wild scream before slamming into the punching bag.

**INT. ORLANDO COMMUNITY CENTER - NIGHT**

There are a couple of moments on the bridge that jump forward in time to that evening, notably Zay at the community center. He pokes his head out the door while they’re still practicing late into the evening, finding a gift bag waiting for them on the doorstep. He lifts the contents out, unfolding a pair of purple Quincy spirit shorts on the line _“you’re unsuited for the rage of war.”_ He looks out towards the night, glowering.

**INT. GARCIA HOME - ASHER’S BEDROOM - NIGHT**

The other out-of-time moment is Dylan climbing in the window to Asher’s room just before midnight, clearly exhausted. He doesn’t even change out of his clothes, collapsing onto the bed and knocking out. Normally, this would be unthinkable to Asher -- but he doesn’t care either, still in his gym gear as well and already dead asleep.

**EXT. HAVERFORD PREP - TRACK & FIELD - DAY**

The rest of the montage cuts back and forth amidst all of it, demonstrating just how hard everyone is working. Our last shot belongs to Farkle, who is sprinting like a madman up the bleachers one last time just as the sun sets behind Haverford. Charlie and Riley are waiting for him at the top, clicking the stopwatch off as soon as he arrives… then they cheer. He did it! He hit the time they were going for!

Farkle lets out a triumphant wail, throwing his arms up in the arm like a champion. Blessed by Hermes, indeed! Charlie and Riley echo his excitement, the three of them up on the bleachers hollering into dusk.

* * *

**INT. JACK’S GYM - DAY**

Back in real time, the Lucas troupe has wrapped their workout for the evening. Asher is doing his best to maintain his composure beyond his exhaustion (i.e., before he goes home and passes out without even deep-cleaning himself), compensating by combing his hair with his pocket comb. Isadora and Lucas debrief, the former excusing herself to go change.

> **Isadora:** If I spend any longer drenched in my own sweat like a Neanderthal, I think I’m going to spontaneously combust. I feel like a traitor to my own body.

> **Lucas:** You need to be careful. Farkle and Maya are rubbing off on you.

Isadora rolls her eyes. She salutes Asher then disappears, leaving them alone. Lucas comes over to join him, crashing down on the mat by the wall and giving Asher a pat on the shoulder.

> **Lucas:** Did good, Bird Bones.

> **Asher:** Thanks. I don’t know which part was more draining, the exercise or the rage.

> **Lucas:** Sorry. My methods don’t work for everyone.

> **Asher:** Oh, no, it works. If I don’t pass those stupid tests tomorrow, at least I’ll already be in such a blind rage that I can murder every single person that invented the national standards in the first place. _ [ off Lucas’s snort ] _ It’s just a lot. Even if I’m channeling it for a good purpose, I don’t know. I’ve just never really… I don’t like anger. I don’t think I process it well.

> **Lucas:** Yeah, I know what you mean. Feels nice in the moment, like I’m doing something, but then it just gets really... empty. Used to feel like that a lot.

Asher knows that. He was there for a major display of it in the last couple of years. There’s a quiet pause, Asher hesitating before he treads the subject he’s always been cautious of. But the opening is there, and he’s been unable to ignore it all week…

> **Asher:** Yeah, about that.  _ [ looking at him ]  _ How the hell do you stomach your father? Sorry if I shouldn’t ask, and you don’t have to tell me. But it’s like… I’ve spent three days, less than 24 hours total, in the same room with him this week and I desperately want to kill him. For everything he’s done, and the way he just stands up there all charming as if none of it has ever happened… like you don’t even exist…

> _ [ Lucas nods along. Obviously, he gets it. He knows exactly what Asher is struggling to articulate. ] _

> **Asher:** It’s infuriating. And that’s just this week. How have you handled that for like… a whole life?

> **Lucas:** I didn’t. Not for a while. You should know, you were there for a lot of the not-coping.  _ [ a beat ]  _ It still fucking sucks. Like, everything about it. It’s just that I used to get so angry about it, all the time, and it didn’t change anything. Anger doesn’t matter when the other person doesn’t care and never will.

> **Asher:** Exhausting.

> **Lucas:** Dora said this thing the other day… things have changed for me. He used to dominate my life, you know, and I let him take up so much of my… everything. But it was just giving him more control over me, the more I obsessed over it. I guess it started to get easier when I started focusing on new things, all I’ve got going on beyond that apartment and beyond him. _ [ with a shrug ]  _ I’m building my own life now. Creating something around it. And someday, ideally, I’ll get to a place where it doesn’t matter at all. Where I’m free of it.

Asher smiles, obviously proud. He nods, lightly elbowing Lucas in the arm.

**INT. QUINCY HIGH SCHOOL - GYMNASIUM - NIGHT**

Vanessa is hanging back late, having been rehearsing dance routines on her own in the space. But now she’s changed tracks, sitting mid-stretch on the gym floor with her laptop in front of her. She’s focused and determined, taking notes as she digs into her competitors on the A-team.

She’s just finishing up looking through Dylan’s Instagram, having taken note of the cheek kiss selfie with Asher that’s the most recent post on his page. She searches for Zay instead, jumping to his page and scrolling through the posts.

Nothing seems to interest her -- or at least, nothing seems _useful_ \-- until she makes it as far as last year. She zeroes in on the fact that Charlie appears in quite a few photos -- group or otherwise -- before he completely disappears in the last six months. She even swoops back up to the top to double check. But no, he suddenly seems to drop right off Zay’s page… and yet she doesn’t remember seeing him this week…

She raises her eyebrows, clicking on one of the photos from last winter with him tagged. She goes with one from Riley’s holiday party, of Zay, Charlie, Nigel, and Yindra. Using the tag, she moves to Charlie’s page. Although he’s on private, his bio tells her everything that she needs to know by mentioning that he’s a senior at Haverford Prep.

That’s a compelling tidbit… Vanessa thinks, a mischievous gleam in her eyes.

**INT. QUINCY HIGH SCHOOL - KENNETH’S OFFICE - NIGHT**

Kenneth is still there late at night just like Jack or Eric might be, going through some grading from P.E. courses. He clears his throat with a cough, turning the page in his gradebook just as Vanessa appears in the doorway. She knocks on the door, catching his attention.

> **Kenneth:** Johnson, you’re here late.

> **Vanessa:** I was dancing. Well, I  _ was_, but I got to thinking… what would you say about making tomorrow’s race a little more inclusive? And a lot more interesting.

Kenneth leans back in his chair, intrigued.

**EXT. QUINCY HIGH SCHOOL - TRACK & FIELD - DAY**

Thus, it’s the big day! The A class and Quincy seniors are assembled out on the field, chatting amongst themselves while they wait for things to really kick off. Eric and Harper are touching base with the performers on the Adams A-team.

That’s because the techies are preoccupied, Nate, Dave, and Dylan helping the others hype Asher up before his retest. Nate is in full-on hype beast mode (a scary sight), all of them jostling him around and getting him back in that feral state of mind. Riley, Isadora, and Farkle watch them.

> **Riley:** Maybe we should do that with you, Farkle.

> **Farkle:** No need. That’s how I always am just under the surface.

> **Isadora:** It’s not under the surface.

Kenneth asks the failures if they’re ready, leading them back into the gymnasium to do the tests. The techies shout a war cry after Asher, Jade, and Isadora, sending them off.

In the interim between the retests and the relay race, Eric chats with the Quincy High principal, MISTER MADISON, who always comes out to watch the final race. It’s tradition. He raises his eyebrows in the midst of their conversation, spotting something behind Eric.

> **Madison:** Well, Eric, I thought you said Hunter wasn’t coming.

Eric frowns in confusion, spinning around to look for himself. He’s surprised to see Jack making his way across the field from the parking lot, showing up after all. Eric can’t help but smile.

> **Eric:** I suppose things change.

Jack greets both of them amicably when he’s close enough, shaking hands with Madison. He claims it’s good to see him, as they get along, and this is usually when they have the chance to catch up. He missed Jack at last year’s race. The non-participating Adams seniors spot Jack from the bleachers, calling to him and waving. Jack smiles, nodding back, as Eric leans over to whisper to him.

> **Eric:** Told you they’d notice.

Jack gives him a look, but he smiles. Madison brings them back into discussion, commenting that it’s great Jack was able to make it this year. This race should be especially interesting, given the additional invitation Coach Friar came up with. Jack looks to Eric in confusion, assuming he’ll know what that means, but Eric seems just as lost as he does.

> **Madison:** Should be quite fun, I think. A good intermingling opportunity. Speaking of -- have to go wish my racers the best. May the best school win, Hunter.

Kenneth returns with the students who didn’t pass before, declaring that nearly all of them managed to improve their scores and meet the benchmarks. One of these students is clearly Asher, who looks a little unhinged but sprints towards the techies in triumph. He leaps onto Dylan’s back, who catches him with a cackle.

> **Asher:** I’m average!

> **Techies Boys:** _ HE’S AVERAGE!!! _

Victory! But of course, not _all_ of them passed. Farkle emerges from the gymnasium last, the obvious remaining failure. Isadora meets Riley and the two of them eye him uncertainly, gauging how he’s taking it… but he seems more aloof than he’s been all week. He throws his arms up lazily in surrender.

> **Farkle:** I almost died last year. Whatever. I could not  _ give _ less of a shit. Sometimes... you just gotta say fuck it.

Well, that’s not the worst response. Riley shrugs, offering him a smile and congratulatory pat on the arm. He tried his best. Maybe. As he said, it doesn’t _really_ matter.

Besides, we’ve got bigger fish to fry. The race is upon us, the Quincy racers grouped by the start of the race course and huddled to strategize. It’s evident Vanessa is leading the conversation, eyeing the Adams A-team from afar, but what she’s saying remains unclear.

As for the A-team, the four chosen racers are having a huddle too -- Zay, Nate, Dylan, and Darby (who has an advantage with her long legs). Maya is in the huddle as well, acting as their unofficial coach and drilling last-minute reminders into their heads. She tries to give a pep talk, but it just comes off demanding and expectant like always, so she switches tracks and just commands them to win.

> **Maya:** Remember what’s at stake.

> **Nate:** Trust, I’m not forgetting. It’s supposed to be in the 40s tomorrow, and I’m not trying to give this bod frostbite.

> **Darby:** Well, you didn’t  _ have _ to take the bet…

It’s too late for reason, Darby! Maya concludes her speech, insisting that they worked their asses off this week and all they have to do is run through to the finish. They can do it. What could possibly throw them off? Nothing! Victory is theirs!

The racers take this attitude with them to the track, congregating at the starting line. Zay steps to Vanessa, asking if she’s ready for some free Adams spirit wear and when they’re going to start. He gets that she might want to put off her humiliation as long as possible, but…

> **Vanessa:** Actually, we’re still waiting for one more.

> **Nate:** What? There are four of you here. We agreed on four.

> **Vanessa:** Oh, not teammate.  _ Team_.

As if on cue, Kenneth shouts towards the end of the field that their other guests are just in time. The Adams racers whip around, staring towards the incoming troops. Zay’s face drops, before shifting into a stunned scowl.

> **Zay:** You’re shitting me…

Nope. Your eyes do not deceive you, Zayby. The Haverford Prep seniors are headed in their direction, lead by Principal Jackson. And four of them are out of uniform and dressed in running gear -- _including Charlie_. He nearly stops in his tracks when he makes eye contact with Zay and the rest of the A-team, realizing what he’s walked into.

Yikes. Jack and Eric exchange worried looks, knowing this is only going to get messy. Kenneth explains the surprise smugly as Principal Jackson comes over to greet them and the Havies disperse into the bleachers with the A class, stating it felt like a great chance to extend camaraderie and the spirit of competition across Central Park. A true tournament of their slice of Manhattan, isn’t it?

> **Aaron:** Oh, Adams and Haverford are well-acquainted in competition. Wouldn’t you agree, Jack?

Jack grimaces a smile, but doesn’t comment.

No time to dwell on it -- it’s race time, baby! Kenneth runs through the rules. Four racers per school, spread out at designated spots along the course. Each racer passes the baton to their next runner when they reach them, in the order they’ve selected. And they’re expected to run the course twice around, so each runner should return to their former position after the first lap. The course starts and ends on the track, but loops around the baseball field. It’s about speed, but it’s about endurance too. First team to cross the finish line a second time will be the winners -- unless Haverford wins, in which case they’re looking at a three-way clean tie.

He blows his whistle, signaling for the racers to take their positions. Summer, Darby, and Billy from Haverford take first string at the starting line. Then another Quincy racer, Dylan, and Dweezil are at the first checkpoint. Dominic, Zay, and Evan are waiting third to close the gap, before passing it off to Vanessa, Nate, and Charlie to bring it home.

Asher leans over to Riley on the bleachers, commentating that at least Zay and Charlie aren’t on the same string. She nods in agreement, but still doesn’t seem that confident that this isn’t going to end in disaster.

> **Kenneth:** Racers, on your marks!

Tension fills the air as Kenneth counts down from 3. Muscles tighten. Jaws set. Maya is already standing at the edge of the track, pacing impatiently.

Then the whistle blows, and the race begins!

Darby, Billy, and Summer take off with strong starts, equally matched in speed, as the bleachers erupt in cheers and hollers. Darby gets an early lead due to her surprising athletic aptitude and runner’s legs, sending Dylan off first in the second stretch. But Billy catches up pretty quickly, launching Dweezil after him moments before the Quincy racer gets the baton.

And that’s where things start to get… interesting. It becomes obvious pretty fast that folks aren’t planning on playing clean, the Quincy racer distracting Dylan by shouting something about Asher from behind him, implying that something happened to him back at the bleachers. Vanessa’s intel coming in handy, it seems. It works as intended, Dylan slowing down and whipping around to see if Asher is in trouble, a ruse that works just long enough for Dweezil and the Quincy racer to zoom past him in the moment of hesitation.

So it’s like _that_. Dylan frowns, cursing to himself and sprinting to catch up. Back on the track, where none of them can hear what was said, the Adams kids are shouting for him to get moving, wondering why the hell he stopped. Maya is especially livid, screaming from the sidelines.

> **Maya:** What the hell, Orlando?! What, did you see a God damn butterfly? Focus for five seconds with whatever brain cells you have and run, idiot!!!

From next to her, Kenneth blinks, adjusting to her volume. He leans over to murmur to Harper.

> **Kenneth:** She’s loud, that one.

> **Harper:** Yeah, she’s got pipes.

By the time Dylan taps Zay in, who shakes his head at him like what the fuck, man, they’re doing major catch-up. Dylan tries to apologize and explain, out of breath, but Zay doesn’t have time to waste. He tells him to get it together before dashing off, sprinting hard to close the distance. Evan is already halfway through the third leg and close to passing the baton off to Charlie.

Nate gets the sense that this game isn’t playing fair, and he’s not the one to hesitate on the uptake. He intervenes just as Evan passes the baton to Charlie, sticking his leg out and _tripping_ him before he can take off running. Charlie sprawls to the asphalt.

The A class reacts in the bleachers, Riley covering her mouth in horror. Isadora cringes, bearing unfortunate witness to what happens to those who leave the Triple A ranks. Clarissa and Haley shout at Nate to knock it off, but Maya is on a completely different track.

> **Maya:** YES! Okay, that’s what I like to see! Let’s get a little blood in here, c’mon Martinez! Take this bitch home!

Evan sees him collapse, starting to double back and help him, but Charlie waves him off.

> **Charlie:** No, no, just go! Go, I’ve got it.

Evan doesn’t seem happy, but obeys, shooting a glare at Nate before turning around to head back to his spot for lap 2 just as Zay comes barreling past him. He passes the baton to Nate, who takes off without hesitation, shouting an apology back to Charlie as he goes.

> **Nate:** Sorry, Gardner! There are no friends in physical education!

Charlie pulls himself back to his hands and knees, with a bit of difficulty since he’s all scraped up. He glances at Zay, the two of them holding each other’s gaze. It’s only a second in reality, but it feels like an eternity. There’s a beat where we can see Zay contemplating, and we wonder if he’s going to help Charlie up…

But he turns around instead, jogging back to his spot for the second lap. This hits worse than the fall, Charlie frowning as he watches Zay leave him behind.

He doesn’t have the time to be upset over it. They’ve already fallen behind, and he can hear Haverford rallying for him to get back up. So he does, channeling all his emotion into running. He was one of the best athletes Adams used to have, after all, so he’s able to close some of the distance Nate’s move caused before giving the baton back to Billy for lap 2.

> **Billy:** Don’t worry, C! They won’t get away with it!

Charlie has no clue what that means, but he doesn’t question it. He just tells Billy to run fast, heading back towards his spot for the final sprint.

Nate is already way ahead of him, looping past the baseball field to retake his spot. But Billy’s ominous comment seems prophetic, Nate running into trouble. He’s suddenly accosted, yanked off-course and behind the baseball bleachers by a group of guys -- Haverford or Quincy unclear. He yelps and fights back, but no one notices, as they’re hidden on this part of the course.

That, and everyone’s focus is on the active race. Dylan has made up for the prior lap this go around, keeping up with Dweezil and not allowing anything to distract him. They pass their batons basically at the same time, Zay ready to go. He takes an early lead against Evan, going heavy on the sprint since it’s his last stretch of the race.

But maybe not. As he closes in on the last circuit, Nate is nowhere to be found. This isn’t the time for one of Nate’s obnoxious jokes… until Zay realizes he’s like, _nowhere_ in sight. And Nate is competitive as hell, so this doesn’t seem like the time he’d choose to pull a stunt. Charlie is puzzling over this too, looking to Zay as he barrels towards them with no one to pass his baton to. _Where the hell is Nate?_

So with no other options and not about to throw the game, Zay just keeps on running. He grips the baton and zooms past Charlie and Vanessa, pushing himself to run the rest of the race if his teammate isn’t here to do it. Vanessa shouts protests after him, and Charlie just stares, only stunned out of it when Evan literally rams into him to get him running again.

> **Evan:** Go, Gardner! Go!

Charlie nods, launching into a sprint to catch up. Vanessa is still impatiently waiting to chase after them, letting out a groan of frustration.

So then it’s just Zay versus Charlie, the latter closing the gap thanks to his agility and the fact that Zay is running a whole extra string than he’s supposed to. But seeing Charlie in his periphery gives him an extra boost of adrenaline, allowing him to pick up speed. It’s riveting to watch, the two of them running pace for pace with everything they’ve got in them. They’ve always been able to match each other, and now that’s truer than ever.

But it’s incredibly tense, too, the rivalry in that moment going much, much deeper than just a test of speed. They accidentally bump elbows, which then becomes a bit of a shove, both of them scowling at one another and trying to up their pace. And just as it’s getting especially aggressive, the uproar of their classmates adding to the chaos in this final stretch…

Charlie loses his nerve. He realizes how hostile the energy has turned, Zay sprinting next to him with everything he has, and it’s like all of the heat just drains out of him. They’ve always been a little competitive, but not like this. That’s not how he ever imagined -- or wanted -- them to be.

So Charlie stops running. He slows to a halt, coming to a standstill on the track in the home stretch, giving Zay a sizable advantage and growing by the second. Zay glances over his shoulder at him, bewildered, and slows for a second too… before taking the upper hand and breezing onward. Vanessa rockets past Charlie in her last ditch effort to steal the race, the Haverford boys screaming at him from the bleachers.

> **Brandon:** What are you doing, Charles?! Run!

But Charlie is not racing anymore. He’s like, totally out of it. Aaron leans over to Eric. 

> **Aaron:** Bit weird, isn’t he? Mister Gardner.

> **Eric, fondly:** Yeah, he’s a bit of an oddball. But that’s what makes him such a joy to teach.

Sure… Aaron shrugs off the comment, focused back on the race as Zay and Vanessa wrap up the relay. Even though she’s able to catch up given that Zay ran _two_ strings in the last lap, he still squeaks out a victory, zooming across the finish line just seconds before Vanessa. The A class erupts, Jack and Eric jumping to their feet to cheer.

Zay collapses onto the asphalt, exhausted (and a bit theatrical). Riley rushes down from the bleachers and Maya jogs over from the sidelines to pull him back up, the former giving him a tight hug as she congratulates him. They did it! They actually won fitness week!

Only… not. Vanessa launches into complaints to Coach Friar, pointing out that this isn’t a fair victory. _Nate_ was supposed to be their fourth, not Zay. If Nate never crossed the finish line, then Adams hasn’t finished their race.

> **Zay:** Are you kidding me? Are you seriously that much of a sore loser?

> **Dominic:** Those are the rules we agreed on. And you didn’t meet them.

> **Vanessa:** Yeah, maybe if your fourth actually showed up for his team --

Oh, he’s showing up, all right. Nate finally reemerges, covered in dirt and grass stains and looking like he just scraped with a pack of wolves. Harper asks in concern what the hell happened to him, Nate throwing his arms out.

> **Nate:** You tell me! You might want to ask one of  _ them _ _ [ nodding to Vanessa and Billy ] _ since I got  _ mauled _ by a bunch of boys coming back for the second lap.

The administrators have grouped on the sidelines now, able to tell there’s trouble. Eric tries to check that Nate is like, okay, but he brushes him off. Anger is stronger than pain.

> **Aaron:** Surely you’re not accusing my boys of foul play.

> **Kenneth:** I don’t take kindly to that insinuation either. My kids aren’t troublemakers.

Well, clearly _someone_ is, Nate barks back. At least, they didn’t teach their students not to be fucking feral. He turns on Charlie just as he’s jogging back over to join them, looking to him as his star witness.

> **Nate:** Charlie! You saw, right?

> **Charlie:** Huh --

> **Brandon:** Oh, yeah, just like we all saw you  _ trip _ Charles on the track?

> **Dylan, under his breath:** Charles…?

> **Brandon:** Are we really supposed to take your word?

> **Nate:** Charlie was running back to fourth string at the same time as me. He had to have seen them jump me. Right, Charlie? You can tell them what happened. Come on!

Charlie stares at Nate, then everyone else, all eyes on him. Thing is, he genuinely has no idea what’s going on, despite Nate’s belief of the contrary, so he can’t offer him much assistance even if he wanted to.

> **Charlie, nervous:** Uh…

> **Nate:** … bitch.  _ Bitch _ \--

> **Eric:** Okay, let’s cool down --

Billy and Dweezil pull Charlie away from Nate just in case he might kill him, throwing an arm around his shoulders and patting him bracingly. Protecting their new brother, though it looks like he’s not sure where he wants to be standing right now.

Either way, none of it matters. Kenneth gets the final word, and he agrees with his student. If Nate didn’t run the final lap, then AAA didn’t finish their race. Therefore, Quincy are the winners.

This news goes over about as well as you’d figure. Everyone immediately launches into complaints, especially Zay and the Adams runners. But Kenneth blows his whistle, calling it settled. For just a moment, some of his brutal demeanor bleeds through his charm, commanding enough control to get everyone to back off.

But the bad blood is going to linger. Zay brushes off Riley’s attempts to comfort him, glancing over his shoulder to glare at the Haverford boys as they walk Charlie back over to their classmates. It’s hard to say who his derision is directed towards in that moment…

**INT. QUINCY HIGH SCHOOL - GIRLS LOCKER ROOM - DAY**

Despite the messed up events and sour mood, Maya is in surprisingly good spirits as she heads into the locker room to find Summer. She jovially returns her cheeky “good game,” Summer commending her for her unsettling good energy in spite of such an epic -- and potentially rigged -- loss on the track.

> **Maya:** Well, it’s like dear Darby once said. It’s more about the fun of the game. And it’s not like you all didn’t run a good race. You’ve got grit, Blondie. Can’t deny that.

She tries to cleverly dig a bit more, seeing if Summer knows anything about what happened with Nate. But she sees right through her, cheerfully but wisely stating she’s smart enough not to comment whether she knows anything or not. While her maneuver has been thwarted, the side step just seems to make Maya _more_ impressed. She surrenders, excitedly claiming that she swears Summer is her kindred spirit. Blonde, bad as hell, a killer competitor and strategic negotiator. It’s like, where has she been all her life?

> **Summer:** Oh, you think we’re equals, huh?

> **Maya:** Well,  _ equals _ might be pushing it. But I certainly can acknowledge a soul sister when I see one.

> **Summer:** Okay, let’s see what you’ve got then. If your sportsmanship is half as good as your performing, then you should be able to keep up… probably.

A cheeky challenge, miss cheer! Maya smirks, up for the dare.

* * *

**Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Pretty Girl Rock” as performed by Keri Hilson || Performed by Maya Hart & Summer**

Summer takes the lead on the pop hit, launching the two of them into a cute, playful rendition. Maya was right that they can meet each other’s energy, and Summer’s vocals may not be quite as stunning as AAA’s coveted senior diva, but they’re good enough to keep up. It’s fun to watch them turn the locker room into their own stage, dancing along the benches and trying to one-up each other. But it’s all in good fun -- for real, this time! -- and it’s nice to see someone match Maya.

* * *

When they wrap, dropping onto the bench between the lockers, Maya compliments her as such. Credit where credit is due! She shakes her head, breathless.

> **Maya:** I have no idea how you didn’t get into Triple A. You’re bitching, and between us, probably more talented than like half the people in my class.

> **Summer:** Oh, I did get into Triple A. I just didn’t go.

> **Maya, stunned:** … what? Why?

> **Summer:** Couldn’t afford it. I mean, it would’ve been amazing, but tuition with no scholarship? Not happening. I have a single mom, and she couldn’t swing that no matter how badly she wanted to.  _ [ with a shrug ]  _ So I went public, got into cheer instead.

Maya absorbs this, dumbfounded. She knows how much AAA has meant to her, how it’s shaped her and is the ticket to everything she wants in the future… and how hard she had to go to earn that scholarship to be able to go. With only six or seven scholarships a year, there’s high probability that hers could’ve just as easily gone to Summer, and it would be _her_ stuck at Quincy doing cheer and community theater to fill those needs.

She really should’ve had this realization ages ago, but it’s clearly hitting her now. Shit…

**INT. QUINCY HIGH SCHOOL - GYMNASIUM - DAY**

Kenneth is finishing cleaning up from the afternoon, the principals from all the schools chatting by the doors despite how awkwardly things ended. That’s professionalism, after all. Kenneth coughs and then notices the administrators heading out, calling after Jack and jogging to catch up to him.

Jack hesitates, obviously debating whether or not to wait… but he plays cordial, turning to face Kenneth. The coach speaks amicably with him, offering to walk with him to the entrance. Give them the chance to catch up -- they haven’t chatted much since Jack missed fitness week last year. He’s obviously operating on a different, dated understanding of their dynamic.

Jack looks like he wants to refuse, but he lightly agrees to the company as they make their exit.

INT. QUINCY HIGH SCHOOL - ENTRANCE - DAY

Kenneth keeps up most of the conversation as they go, Jack engaging politely but not giving him much. It’s hard to watch, really, knowing what we know about both of them and how much disdain Jack is swallowing back for the sake of being professional.

When they make it to the doors, Kenneth finds a way to really dig the nail into the coffin. He brings up Lucas, jokingly commenting that Jack is truly doing the hard job, having to deal with his hell-raising son. Sorry he has to put up with him and all his jackass behavior -- doesn’t know where the hell he got it from, ending up such a pain in the ass. But hey, kids, right?

Jack’s fist clenches at his side. For a second, it really seems like he might say something, or do something… but he maintains his composure. Remaining smart and professional, thinking before he acts, as he’s always teaching Lucas. He unclenches his fist, managing a sharp smile.

> **Jack:** It’s my privilege.

Whether or not Kenneth knows it, the sentiment is entirely genuine. Jack nods a brisk goodbye, setting off before he can say anything else.

**EXT. QUINCY HIGH SCHOOL - DAY**

Outside of the school, students from Triple A are mingling with Quincy students. A couple of younger students are taking selfies with an exhausted Dylan, still beaming, while Asher watches from the sidelines. Maya is chatting happily with Summer and some other cheerleaders. Despite the animosity throughout the week, some bridges have been built between the two schools.

One of those bridges is between Isadora and Dominic. Her gaze focuses on Dominic as he approaches where she’s waiting by the wall. 

> **Dominic:** Hey, Isadora! So… do you think you’re going to transfer?

Isadora pauses, leaving us in suspense. Then, she shakes her head.

> **Isadora:** No, I don’t think so. You saw what Nate did to Charlie out there. I don’t want that to be me.

> **Dominic:** I have no idea who Nate and Charlie are, but if my two cents mean anything, I think you made the right choice.

> **Isadora:** You’re truly the worst school ambassador I’ve ever met.

> **Dominic:** _ [ with a shrug ] _ I just wouldn’t want to leave my friends during our last year of school. Especially if... well, if I was going through a tough time.

Isadora nods, absorbing this. Dominic looks away from her and notices Farkle standing a ways away, eyes glued to them with furrowed eyebrows. When Dominic smiles and turns back to Isadora, placing a friendly hand on her shoulder, Farkle makes his way over to them.

> **Dominic:** It’s a shame, though. I would’ve enjoyed getting to know you.

Isadora’s eyes widen, not entirely sure what that means, but is distracted by the presence of Farkle, who frowns as he comes over to join them.

> **Dominic:** Well, congrats on passing gym, anyway. See you around, Isadora. 

> **Isadora:** See you...

Dominic heads over to his friends, leaving a perplexed Isadora and affronted Farkle in his wake.

> **Farkle, bitterly:** What was all that about? I’ve noticed you talking to him throughout the week, you know. You’re not being very subtle about it all.

> **Isadora:** Wait, what? You know? How?

Farkle stops short. There’s actually something to know about? That’s worrying. 

> **Farkle:** What?

> **Isadora:** How did you find out about me transferring?

> **Farkle:** You’re transferring?!

Isadora makes a face, lost. If he wasn’t talking about that, then what was he...? She shakes her head, trying to get back on track.

> **Isadora:** No, okay, no! I was just considering it. What’s gotten into you? You’re acting weirder than usual, and that’s saying something considering you’re you.  _ [ a beat, then with a smirk ] _ Are you jealous or something? Is that it?

She was trying to lighten the mood, but it seems to have only gotten heavier. Farkle stammers nonsensically and avoids looking her in the eye. Isadora reaches out and pokes him in the chest to get his attention.

> **Isadora:** Hey, I’m kidding. But seriously, are you okay? You’ve been like, Farkle turned up to the max this week.

> **Farkle:** ...It’s just the stress of athleticism, I’m sure. Don’t worry about it.

Isadora doesn’t look sure, but lets the topic rest.

> **Farkle:** Why didn’t you tell me you were thinking of transferring?

> **Isadora:** I didn’t want to make an issue of it if it came to nothing — which it has, so. No big deal.

> **Farkle:** What made you change your mind?

> **Isadora:** It didn’t really feel right anyway, but... when Nate tripped Charlie, I realized that I never want to be in that situation. As dysfunctional as it is, the A Class is my family. And I can’t lose any more family.

Farkle’s expression softens. He requests the right to put his arm around Isadora’s shoulders, which she grants him, and squeezes her close.

> **Farkle:** You’ll never lose me, Isadora. I promise.

> **Isadora:** You shouldn’t make promises you can’t keep. _ [ a beat ] _ But thanks.

She mirrors his light smile, Farkle jostling her lightly as they make their long-awaited exit from Quincy High.

**INT. HAVERFORD PREP - LIBRARY - DAY**

Charlie is back in his uniform and holed up in the library, flipping through workbooks, textbooks, and a French-English dictionary. If he wasn’t in a great mood to start the week, he’s even lower now. He curses to himself and chews the inside of his cheek, skimming through the dictionary. He’s flipping pages with such agitation, he gives himself a paper cut.

> **Charlie:** _ Damn _ it! Seriously --

He sucks at his thumb, wincing. Evan enters through the library doors, spotting him in his spot in the back corner. He comes over to join him, telling him he looks like he’s having a fun time.

> **Evan:** Bit late to be hanging out in the stacks on a Friday evening, though. You like books that much?

> **Charlie:** I mean, yes.  _ [ off Evan’s chuckle ] _ But that’s not why I’m here. And couldn’t I say the same to you?

> **Evan:** I’m here because of you, actually. Dweez saw you here before he left at 5 and told me you’d been here all afternoon and didn’t seem to be leaving any time soon. He thought you might need an intervention.

Ha ha… how sweet. Charlie sighs and explains the situation, about the French course and highest honors and needing to go to Yale. Or Brown. Or wherever, somewhere that isn’t going to accept him if he doesn’t have Haverford Honors. Something he clearly didn’t think about while he was dancing his time away at Adams.

Evan slides into the chair opposite him, listening attentively. The conversation somehow drifts to the race, and the obvious tension that existed between him and his former classmates at Adams. Evan states that he doesn’t believe Haverford had anything to do with whatever happened to Martinez, if that makes Charlie feel any better.

> **Evan:** Some people are just sore losers. Apparently, Adams often is, given what upperclassmen have been telling us after showdown for the last four years.  _ [ off Charlie’s frown ] _ Anyway, doesn’t matter now. What’s done is done, and you’ve got bigger problems clearly. But if you want, I can help you with the French.

> **Charlie:** … really?

> **Evan:** For sure. I’m top of our class in foreign language -- to Brandon’s chagrin, I might add.  _ Mais quand tu l’as, tu l’as. _

When you’ve got it, you’ve got it. Evan shrugs cheekily, managing to earn a smile from Charlie. He doesn’t know what he’s used to at Adams, where it’s clearly competitive and cutthroat, but here they help each other out.

> **Evan:** You’re one of us now. It’s nothing for a brother. We’ll get you caught up in no time, and you’ll kill the retest on Monday.

Wow… Charlie nods, grateful. Then they get to work, Evan taking the workbook from him to see what he’s working on.

**INT. CHUBBIES - NIGHT**

Riley and Lucas are sitting side-by-side in the usual booth, going over the likely outcomes she was running earlier and discussing whether or not Lucas is going to submit his intent to run. The deadline is in just a couple hours, and he’s got the form all filled out… and yet. With the candidates as they are now, it doesn’t look favorable for him.

> **Riley:** I’ve thought about like a dozen different scenarios, but there’s not a lot of room for error since our school is so small. As long as the candidates are as they are, even if Nate drops out, there’s still Maya. As long as she’s there --

> **Lucas:** We split the vote.  _ [ shaking his head ] _ Shit.

Riley frowns, rubbing his arm. She reaches up to gently fix a cowlick on his head, smoothing it back into place affectionately. At least she can fix something…

Like the harbinger of doom herself, Maya steps into the diner and scans the room for them. She saunters over when she spots them, clearing her throat pointedly to interrupt the soft moment. Lucas doesn’t look pleased to see her, so Riley takes up conversing with her, but Maya is evidently there for a reason.

> **Maya:** You give us a minute, roomie? I need to have words with Friar alone.

Riley clearly doesn’t think _that’s_ a good idea, but Maya is adamant. Lucas shrugs, nodding for Riley to go on. This might as well happen. Riley hesitantly slides out of the booth, keeping an eye on them over her shoulder as she goes to hang by the counter. Maya climbs into the booth opposite him.

> **Lucas:** Look, if you’re just going to tell me again what a hilarious joke I am, I’m really not in the mood. There has to be someone else in this hell city you can torment.

> **Maya:** That’s not why I’m here.

Lucas glances at her, still reluctant but curious. She explains the unexpected comrade she made at Quincy, against all odds, and how it got her to thinking. About many things, but mainly what he said about scholarship and the fact that maybe even unlikely parties can find common ground. Maybe it isn’t wise to write people off based on prior assumptions.

> **Lucas:** Neat. You get that off a fortune cookie?

> **Maya:** God, you are such a jackass.  _ [ rolling her eyes, then examining him ]  _ Just answer me one question, Friar. Full disclosure.

> **Lucas:** Don’t think you’ve earned that from me, but whatever. Sure.

> **Maya:** … are you serious about this? Like, your platform and campaign and everything. Do you actually give a damn, or is this just another one of your elaborate forms of psychological torture that you’re inevitably going to fuck up or drop when you get bored or have another broody cliché meltdown? Do you actually think you can do this?

Lucas holds her glare, contemplating. Thinking before he speaks, considering the question for himself. _Does_ he really want to do this?

> **Lucas:** Yeah. I’m serious.

Whether or not that’s the truth, the full disclosure Maya wanted, only time will tell. But she has to decide then if she believes it, and forever hold her peace. After a long moment of scrutinizing him with narrowed eyes, she releases an enormous sigh, then raises her hands in surrender.

> **Maya:** I cannot believe I’m about to say this, but fine. Okay. I concede.

> **Lucas:** What?

> **Maya:** I’m out of the race. I’ll step down and support your campaign -- God knows you need the resume boost more than me -- but you better stand by those promises. You get into office, and then for the love of God, you better make some damn change.

Lucas stares at her, stunned. Maya Hart, actually conceding? And _supporting_ Lucas James Friar? As unbelievable as it might be, it’s also the most compelling sign from the universe that this might be worth a shot. Lucas looks down at his intent form.

* * *

**INT. JACK’S APARTMENT - NIGHT**

**Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Shake It Off - Acoustic” as performed by Taylor Swift || Performed by Dylan Orlando**

Which then ends up in Jack’s inbox, just as he’s starting to shut down for the evening and the guitar vamp starts. He sees the new email is from Lucas and immediately opens it, seeing that he’s submitted the form and is in fact joining the race. Right before deadline, naturally, but still in it. Jack laughs to himself, somewhat in disbelief… and then he grins.

His privilege, indeed.

**INT. ORLANDO COMMUNITY CENTER - DAY**

Dylan finally gets his chance to sing “Shake It Off,” underscoring the final moments of the episode. And after all the chaos of this episode, there’s definitely a lot to shake off! He’s doing the whole thing off-the-cuff and loose on his guitar, sounding more like [this acoustic demo](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fsoundcloud.com%2Fignacio_13%2Fshake-it-off-demo&t=MjA3Y2NmNDdhYmYxYWE3N2I2NWZjNTVjYThmMTlkOGM5MjY1MGIwNyw5YWFiNDA5MjIwODBiYWZkOTM2NjE5MjdkMzY3N2I1NTAyYzNiYmRi&ts=1604690229) version of the Swift classic.

And of course, Asher is there with him. He laughs along and grooves around the community center with his boyfriend, the willing recipient of his unrestrained serenade.

**INT. AAA - A/V CLUB STUDIO - DAY**

Riley and Lucas meet with Dave and Yogi on Saturday to film his intent to run announcement. While Yogi gives him notes about the camera and Dave happily encourages him, Lucas tosses a glance to Riley hovering back by the equipment and out of the way. She gives him a bright smile and small thumbs-up.

Finally, they’re ready. Yogi cues Lucas in, and then he launches into his speech.

> **Lucas:** I’m Lucas James Friar. Many of you know me as the senior lead technician, or that jackass who hangs out in the booth all the time. And both those things are true, but I also think I can be more than that. I think this school can be more, too, for all of us -- which is why I’m running for your student body president.

**EXT. CENTRAL PARK - DAY**

As Lucas continues his speech, highlighting all of the understandable reservations people might have about him as a candidate -- none of which he tries to deny -- we jump to Central Park to quite the spectacle. Maya, Nate, and Zay are going through with their end of the bet, standing in the cold weather in nothing but Quincy High spirit shorts and, in Maya’s case, a flimsy camisole. They’re shivering, indignant, but more than anything, humiliated, holding signs that say some not-s0-kind things about Adams and proclaim Quincy’s superiority.

Random passersby stare at them, while students from Quincy _and_ Haverford come to see for themselves and laugh. Vanessa is amongst them, gleefully taking a photo for posterity. She beams smugly at Zay, who scowls back.

**INT. ERIC’S APARTMENT - ISADORA’S BEDROOM - DAY**

Lucas shifts his message, going on to point out all the reasons they should consider choosing him. Mainly, he emphasizes all the changes he thinks Adams could make, to be better for _all_ of them. Performer or techie, wealthy or not. Adams isn’t the shining staple of education and the arts that they all pretend it is -- but it _could_ be. It could be better, just like him. Just like all of them. It just needs the chance to prove it.

Isadora picks up a few pamphlets advertising varying schools in the region, including Quincy, from her desk. She flips through them briefly before dropping them into her small trash can, then looks at her collage of photos and smiles.

**INT. AAA - HALLWAYS - DAY**

The assembled A class watches and listens to the announcement with mixed reactions. Some, like Sarah, obviously can’t believe this happening -- and react even more so when news spreads that Maya has stepped down from the race. Others are thrilled, like the techies, who applaud the announcement as they congregate in the back center section Monday morning.

Riley stands at her locker, listening to her boyfriend over the speaker. She smiles, proud.

**INT. AAA - TEACHER’S LOUNGE - DAY**

The surprise is mixed in the teacher’s lounge, too. Harper and Shawn are discussing it avidly, CORY MATTHEWS seemingly devastated by the possibility. Jack and Eric listen with intrigued grins, Eric elbowing Jack and raising his eyebrows.

**INT. ORLANDO COMMUNITY CENTER - DAY**

We throw back to Dylan and Asher one last time, the former taking us home with a resounding flourish. He laughs, allowing Asher to pull him into a lighthearted kiss.

* * *

**INT. CHUBBIES - NIGHT**

Even for all the excitement and boat rocking at school, though, at work Lucas is still just another employee. He’s back behind the counter in his usual meandering existence, Joe offhandedly congratulating him. Adams kids come through here all the time -- he hears a lot of things.

> **Joe:** Way to go, Mister candidate. _ [ patting his shoulder ]  _ Now cash out the register.

Leave it to Joe to keep things down to Earth. Lucas nods, shifting his focus to the register just as a new customer walks through the door.

MISSY BRADFORD. She raises her eyebrows at Lucas working behind the counter, commenting what a strange picture this is. Usually political candidates are aristocrats, world leaders, titans of their communities… and here he is, in a greasy apron and counting out chump change.

> **Missy:** What has the world come to…

> **Lucas, begrudgingly:** Is there something I can help you with? Or do I have valid reason to ask you to leave?

She gives him a mocking smile, approaching the counter. She claims she’s just picking up an order for her family -- though why her mother wants to order from this dump, she has no idea. Usually they order out from Eleven Madison Park, but, well…

> **Missy:** I suppose the greasy charm of slumming it is enough to tempt even the most refined consumers.

> **Lucas:** Shining endorsement. You should leave a Yelp review.

> **Missy:** You should take it as a compliment. Just goes to show that even the most slovenly have the ability to leave an impression worth coming back for… perhaps even enough to seize an unsuspecting electorate.

We get it, Missy. You think Lucas is cheap trash. He glowers at her, flatly claiming he’ll go get her order. In the meantime, she can sign for it. She nods him along, though her gaze lingers on him a bit too long to be truly dismissive as he goes. She thoughtfully scans the receipt, making a couple of decisive notations along with her signature before pulling out her credit card.

Lucas returns, haphazardly sliding the order to her as she passes over her card. He charges it, then hands it back.

> **Lucas:** Thank you for your patronage. Hopefully you won’t find yourself so devilishly tempted by the underbelly of society, or cuisine, ever again.

> **Missy:** Yes, well, one can hope…  _ [ eyeing him ]  _ But I guess we’ll see. Have a good night, Slumdog President.

He makes a face as she struts out, leaving him to gather her receipt. He scoops it up off the table, where she’s also left her tip in cash… and that’s what stops him cold. He lifts the bills off the counter, staring at them.

It’s a _huge_ tip. Way more than typical for an order like that, but clearly not a mistake. No one just drops a couple hundred dollar bills. Lucas glances around him, uncertain, then pulls her receipt towards him. Under her signature, she left a tiny message.

_Keep the change, for your hapless campaign._

So it really is just for him. Lucas stares at it, caught between shock, disgust… and an undeniable sense of satisfaction to be holding so much money. As we hang on his torn expression…

_**END OF EPISODE.** _


	7. Party Favors [ 3.04 ]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> BLAME IT ON THE JUICE – Former Adams survivors return for homecoming and offer wisdom to the A class. Isadora gets a rich surprise. Chai attempts to salvage her popularity with a campaign event, but agents of chaos turn the conduct from diplomatic to disorderly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As the length of episodes has only increased this season, we’re beta-testing a new feature. We’ve included “breaks” a couple times per episode, which you can use as pseudo bookmarks if you need a reading break. When you’re ready to return, you can just search for the specific break (1 or 2, etc.), and it’ll jump to right where you left off. Obviously, it’s totally fine to enjoy the episodes in one sitting, too (I know I would!), but we wanted to give this a try and see if people appreciated it. If so, we’ll go back and add them to 301 - 303, as well as include them in the future. So let us know how you feel about them, and otherwise, enjoy the episode! :)
> 
>  **CONTENT WARNING:** Underage drinking.
> 
> ( Follow along with the music on Spotify [here](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/17qHHA7v0GQbxmmKZa10Hv?si=-1x_9vv1RySKFUuJcEfY_g)! )

**INT. OFFICE - DAY**

We’re not focused on a person, but an object, a very official-looking parcel being sealed and dropped off at the front desk of an important building. It sits in the outgoing mail slot until the postal service worker comes to pick it up, tossing it into the bin with the rest.

**EXT. NEW YORK STREETS - DAY**

From there, we stay with the parcel, watching it traverse its winding journey through the streets of Manhattan. Being taken in and out of postal service vans, walking along the streets, until finally it’s dropped on the doorstep…

**INT. ERIC’S APARTMENT - COMPLEX - DAY**

Of Eric’s apartment. ERIC MATTHEWS steps outside to answer the door, giving a friendly wave to the postal worker as they head out. He drops down to collect the mail, sifting through a couple of spare letters before hovering over the parcel. It’s less a package and more a thick envelope, and from the curious expression on his face, it’s clear he wasn’t expecting it.

After a moment, we see why. The letter is addressed to **Isadora De La Cruz**.

**INT. PRINT SHOP - DAY**

At the same time, RILEY MATTHEWS is running an errand of her own. She’s picking up posters, thanking the worker happily as they slide the completed order in her direction. She lifts the lid off the box of posters, getting a good look at them.

Posters for Lucas’s campaign for president. Whoever designed them must be a genius, because they managed to take his intense visage and reputation and turn it into a visual that is compelling and encouraging, yet still feels like him. It’s a student campaign poster that doesn’t make you cringe, and that’s a feat!

Riley clearly thinks so too. She smiles at her boyfriend on the poster, fond and proud.

**INT. FRESCO ESTATE - DINING ROOM - DAY**

But lest we forget, Lucas still has competition. CHAI FRESCO sits at a large dining table with her mother, MS. FRESCO, eating a luxurious breakfast spread laid out on the table. They’re chatting about Chai’s return to AAA, with Ms. Fresco splitting her attention between her phone and her daughter. Chai falsely assures her mother that it’s as if she never left. 

> **Ms. Fresco:** And how’s the election going? I heard you have a new opponent -- that Friar boy who was on the news last semester?

Chai nods and starts to say something, but her mother doesn’t give her the chance.

> **Ms. Fresco:** Pretty rascally for a traditional candidate. Considering the school didn’t even want him to stay as a student, should be an easy win for you.

> **Chai:** Maybe. But --

> **Ms. Fresco:** _ [ reading an email ]  _ Oh, shit. Hold that thought, dear. I need to reply to this email pronto. The business trip I told you about has been pushed forward to Wednesday.  _ [ suddenly remembering ] _ You’ll be fine for an extra night on your own, right?

> **Chai:** Oh, sure. Yeah. No big deal.

Ms. Fresco shoots Chai a tight smile as she types furiously away on her phone, not catching Chai’s disheartened expression.

**INT. CHUBBIES - BACK ROOM - DAY**

For the rascally candidate, there’s a lot more to juggle than just the election. LUCAS JAMES FRIAR is taking a break during his morning shift at Chubbies before school, and only one thing is on his mind. He’s staring at the wad of cash Missy tipped him at the end of 303, obviously torn about what to do with it. He should get rid of it, return it or dump it into the cook tip jar and be done with it… but it’s _money_ , and Lord knows he needs it…

He doesn’t have time to ruminate on it now. JOE calls him from the kitchen to remind him he’s on the clock and his break is up. Lucas exhales, stuffing the money back in the front pocket of his backpack and zipping it tight.

**INT. CHUBBIES - DAY**

He emerges from the back room and returns to the floor to work, taking his place behind the counter. ASHER GARCIA and DYLAN ORLANDO are at the stools, having breakfast while they hang around with Lucas during his morning shift. Though he’s away from the money, it’s clearly still on his mind.

> **Lucas:** Can I ask you guys something?

> **Asher:** That seems like a weird question to ask someone you’ve been friends with for years. Never stopped you before.

> **Dylan:** Yeah, of course. Oh, but  _ [ holding out his empty glass ] _ only after you refill my milk.

Lucas glares at him, Dylan matching him with his unwavering beam. Since he’s working, it’s not like he can refuse, so with an eye roll Lucas obliges. When he returns with a full glass of milk and Dylan thanks him cheerfully, Lucas tries to figure out how to ask what he wants to know.

> **Lucas:** What would you guys do if you suddenly came across a lot of money?

Asher immediately tenses up, closing his eyes and going through the five stages of grief in about three seconds.

> **Asher:** Did you rob someone? Or a bank? Be honest.

> **Lucas:** No! No, relax. You won’t need to pay bail again any time soon.

> **Dylan:** The fact that you said “again…”  _ [ proudly ] _ we truly are such a special little trio.

> **Lucas:** It’s just a hypothetical. You know, with college on the brain and everything, it’s just… on my mind.

Potential crime averted, Dylan and Asher take the time to actually ponder the question. Both essentially reach the same conclusion, which is that so long as they could feel good about how they got the money, they’d probably use it. Dylan uses his Youtube channel as an example, stating again that he never intended to make a profit off it -- and doesn’t get why he does, honestly -- but it allowed him to help pay his dad back for AAA, and bolster their community center which has been his dad’s dream for the last decade. Regardless of where the money is coming from, if it’s being put to good use, then that can’t be bad.

> **Dylan:** And with the funds I’ve got left over, I’m able to treat my  _ man_!

> _ [ He elbows Asher, who manages to maintain a deadpan delivery, though a small smile breaks through. ] _

> **Asher:** Ah, yes, that McDonalds we got the other day was truly the height of luxury.

Dylan raises his glass. _Hear hear!_ Lucas shakes his head, but he’s amused, too. Their friendship feels so distinctly familiar, even in the face of the surrealism that a little wealth creates.

But the universe isn’t done delivering. ISADORA DE LA CRUZ wanders in to join them, looking dazed and a bit out of it. The boys exchange looks before greeting her.

> **Asher:** How’s your morning? You good?

> **Isadora, blankly:** … I’m a billionaire.

It seems like the kind of thing you say as a joke, but Isadora isn’t one for jokes. And from her delivery, she is one hundred percent serious. All three boys react accordingly, jaws dropped. Dylan drops his milk, spilling it all over the countertop.

Talk about surrealism.

_**Cue title sequence.** _

**EXT. AAA - COURTYARD - DAY**

Isadora sits at one of the tables, feet on the bench, with MAYA HART next to her and FARKLE MINKUS sat opposite them. Isadora explains the situation of her inheritance to them, keeping her head down as she talks, arms crossed.

> **Maya:** Why are you so  _ sullen _ right now? You’re  _ rich_! You can make my wildest dreams come true.

> **Farkle:** Or, you know, her wildest dreams. Since it’s her money.

> **Maya:** _ [ waves him off ]  _ Details, details.

> **Farkle:** But I do agree. Coming into money can only be a good thing, surely.

Maya nods eagerly in agreement, but Isadora doesn’t seem convinced. 

> **Isadora:** I just don’t see money that way. It’s represented everything I hate in the world for basically my whole life.

> **Maya:** Damn, Farkle is right there.

> **Isadora:** It’s what made for some awful fosters, it’s what corrupted my mom --

> **Farkle, quietly:** I mean, I think it was more the drugs that did that…

> **Isadora:** She went to Hollywood to get rich and famous. The drugs were an added feature.

Farkle tries to counter, but Maya holds up a hand to halt him in his tracks. She rolls her eyes at Isadora’s despondency, making her last argument.

> **Maya:** I don’t have time for this to turn into a debate. The point is that this is  _ amazing_, Izzy. Like, literally life changing. You should be excited! I’ve got a list a mile long of the shit I’d do if I had money. Like bring my mom back to the city, for one. Then get some actual designer clothes. Hell, I could cut my  _ own _ record deal if I could afford the studio time! Stop thinking like Isa-bore-a and start thinking like a De La Cruz!

Isadora sighs, knowing that no matter how she tries to explain, her rich and wannabe-rich friends won’t understand her perspective. Maya jumps down off the table and brushes dirt off her skirt.

> **Maya:** I have to go help Riley put up posters for Lucas’s doomed campaign, but when I’m done, if you still don’t want the money, then I’ll be more than happy to take it off your hands. Just let me know!

She flashes a cheeky grin before skipping off inside, blonde hair flouncing. Farkle takes Maya’s vacant spot, climbing onto the tabletop to sit next to Isadora.

> **Farkle:** I may not understand your mommy issues and all that, but I do get that this must be really overwhelming for you. And I  _ do _ get how to live with money. If it would help, I can like… help you figure out what to do. Learn how to manage it.

> **Isadora:** _ [ with a raised eyebrow ]  _ You’re going to, what, give me lessons in being rich?

> **Farkle:** Well... would that be helpful?

Isadora considers it, tilting her head as she looks at Farkle. After a beat, she slowly nods.

> **Isadora:** It actually might. Thanks.

Farkle smiles, pleased that he can be of service.

**INT. AAA - TECHNICIAN’S BOOTH - DAY**

Riley hands a copy of the campaign poster to Lucas, Asher, and Dylan, all of them gathered in the booth. She commends Dylan for his handiwork in designing them, though he claims overall it was a team effort between him, her, and Asher.

> **Dylan:** All those days in environmental club paid off.

> **Lucas:** Yeah, well, let’s hope these last longer than nine days. Aside from the fact that they have my face all over them, which is kind of my worst nightmare, I guess they’re pretty good.

> **Dylan:** Aw, but look at you, you’re so cute! I’d vote for you in a heartbeat -- right after I pinch your little cheeks.

Dylan playfully reaches to do just that, but Lucas glares at him and smacks his hand down. Antics notwithstanding, the posters are good.

> **Asher:** Seriously, though, they’ll work. It’ll get thirsty freshmen to vote for you based on looks alone, with no regard for your personality or policy.

> **Lucas:** That’s a glowing recommendation. I should’ve chosen you as my campaign manager.

Riley has it under control though, and she’s doing a great job. She claims she’s going to hang up a bunch during lunch. She would’ve gotten more done this morning, but Zay was supposed to help and he blew her off. Though she says it offhandedly, there’s the slightest of edges to the statement. She doesn’t know what he could be doing that he deemed more important…

**INT. AAA - DANCE STUDIO - DAY**

Unsurprisingly, the grind is what ZAY BABINEAUX is up to once again. After the events of last episode he’s back to business, working harder than ever. The only thing taking some of the air out of his tires is his own limitations, fatigue and muscle strain causing him to fumble more than usual or lose his train of thought and mess up the choreography.

Still, his personal routine is shaping up quite nicely. That’s what YINDRA AMINO and NIGEL CHEY comment as they come to find him, making subtle commentary that yet again this is where they find him -- working his ass off in the dance studio alone. At least the routine is looking good. Given his recent public humiliation, the two of them are going easy on him.

Weirdly enough, though, Zay cites the bet as his wake-up call. The ridiculousness of it shocked him out of the distractions, reminding him where his focus needs to be.

> **Yindra:** Kind of seems like a weird takeaway to get from standing in your underwear in Central Park.

> **Nigel:** Technically, they were shorts.

> **Yindra:** Not when they’re that size, they’re not.

Case in point, Zay is done fooling around. If people like Haverford and haters like Vanessa are any indication, the system will always be rigged and the odds stacked against him. The only thing he can control is how hard he works and how big he delivers, and the only person he can count on is himself.

And if he has anything to say about it, then he’s going to come out on top.

**INT. HAVERFORD PREP - AUDITORIUM - DAY**

If Zay is the top of the bar, then CHARLIE GARDNER is far from it. He’s completely off his game while the Haverford seniors run through one of their competition numbers for showdown semi-finals, missing steps and being in the wrong place at the wrong time. DWEEZIL HOWARD nearly runs into him in one of these instances, stabilizing him and nudging him to the right spot.

Suffice to say, BRANDON RIVAS notices. Once they’re done with the number, he directs everyone to take five -- and maybe get their heads back on straight. The comment isn’t aimed right at Charlie, but it’s pretty obvious to everyone why they’re taking a breather.

BILLY ROSS says it outright, joking with Charlie as they’re resting that he sure seems on the wrong foot today. He thought he was supposed to be the best dancer at AAA.

> **Billy:** Did you leave it behind when you jumped the park?

Ha ha… Charlie laughs along, but it’s hollow. Yeah… what _did_ he leave behind…

**INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY**

The A class is assembling for the first performance lab of the week, gathering in the front and center section like usual. There’s a bit of gossiping, mainly about Chai and Lucas finally being in the same room since he announced his candidacy. NATE MARTINEZ seems eager to watch a scrap unfold, but both candidates remain civil as they take their seats.

> **Chai:** I look forward to taking you on as a political adversary.

> **Nate:** Oh, come on. I wanted a little venom. Candidate v. candidate!

> **Yogi:** Aren’t you also running, Nate?

> **Nate:** _ [ waving him off ]  _ Eh.

Rest assured, Nate, you’ll get your head-to-head. Maya says as much when she reminds them they have a presidential debate coming up that week, and that’ll really be the chance to see how Chai and Lucas size one another up in the political field. Though she’s touting his name confidently in supporting his campaign, Lucas seems more unsure about the debate.

That’s not the only thing they’ve got going on this week. HARPER BURGESS and SHAWN HUNTER come to join them on the stage, explaining that this week is a pretty special week for seniors in the Adams calendar. In their version of homecoming, they have alumni return from varied graduating classes to come spend the week with them and offer insight, wisdom, and advice from the world beyond the walls of AAA.

With that, they introduce their guests for the week. First up they introduce GABRIELLA “GABI” CORTEZ (19), the most recent graduate of the crop. She’s a petite Latina, built like a ballerina and with a smile that’s sweet as sugar. Maya in particular brightens when she makes her entrance, clearly familiar with the alumna.

Next up is SIMONE WILSON (21), a self-assured, athletic Black woman with a winning grin. Although she carries herself with clear confidence, there’s an easygoing nature to it, a humility similar to Zay. She and Gabi exchange a small low-five, familiar and friendly with each other even across grade divisions.

Then, lastly, Harper introduces QUINTON MARKS III (24). He’s the obvious pretentious one, lithe frame dressed sharply and with sharp features to match. Though he offers the A class a smile and light wave as he takes the stage, it has an air of smugness that the other two did not. Jeff taps Farkle on the back of the neck, leaning forward.

> **Jeff:** Hey, Minkus, found you in ten years.

Farkle looks over his shoulder to glower at him, the techies bursting into snickers. A bit preemptive, perhaps, but maybe not that far off…

Harper lets them take the reins, Simone stepping forward to greet the seniors. She gestures for them to come join the three of them on the stage, as they want to do a little warm-up exercise to kick off the week. The performers jump up eagerly, the techies lagging behind and hanging near the wings.

While Simone goes to set up the music, Gabi has them all spread out in lines, finding their windows and loosely stretching. She explains that if all of them can remember anything in common about this time in their AAA careers, it’s that it’s _stressful_. No matter how confident you feel, no matter what plans you do or don’t have, the crunch of application season and the impending spectre of the rest of your life can be downright suffocating. Based on the expressions of the A class as they nod along, it’s clear they agree.

So, before anything else, the alumni want them all to just take a breather. Stay loose, find their groove, spend some time remembering what’s so great about this thing they’ve spent the last four years doing. And to do that, they’re going to dance it out.

Simone beams, hitting play on the speakers and sending us off.

* * *

**Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Juice” as performed by Lizzo || Performed by Gabi Cortez & Simone Wilson**

The exercise starts simply enough, Simone and Gabi encouraging the A class to find their groove from their place on the stage. Farkle asks if there’s choreography they’re supposed to be following, which Gabi waves off. She emphasizes maintaining their individuality, finding their own vibe and just moving with that for a minute. She and Simone pass the vocals back and forth, whoever isn’t singing at the time taking the lead on directing and engaging with the seniors.

When they hit the chorus, the focus shifts a bit, the ladies leading the class in a variation of a line dance. The movements are simple, reminiscent of the Cha-Cha Slide or Cupid Shuffle, but cooler and looser against the backdrop of Lizzo. Gabi encourages them to keep their own spin on it, so each A class member has a slightly different take on the moves as they do them.

Simone hones in on the techies hanging by the sidelines, grinning at them and telling them they’re not off the hook. She was once a half-techie, she knows they’ve got the music in them, too. She nudges all of them onto the stage with the performers to join the exercise. When Dylan passes her she brightens, laughing.

> **Simone:** Aye, vlogger boy! I know you!

Dylan returns her gesture of recognition, saluting her with a grin as he goes to join the others. By just insisting on it, the alumni seem to have done the improbable, integrating the techies and performers in a _dance_ exercise, with no competition or incendiary edge to it.

And it’s fun to watch. It’s nice to see the A class have _fun_ together, whether while line dancing or when they end up in a dance circle of sorts on the bridge. Simone and Gabi gather them back together and lead the groove through to the end, the seniors light and enthusiastic with laughter as they wrap up the exercise.

* * *

**EXT. HAVERFORD PREP - COURTYARD - DAY**

Charlie is having lunch with BRIDGETTE GARDNER, seated at one of the far tables of the Haverford courtyard. It’s a good place for them to meet, as it’s not too far from Bridgette’s commute, and Eleanor is never going to check on him at school.

> **Charlie:** I’ve totally lost my groove.

He continues on his nervous monologue, explaining what happened at rehearsal and how he’s been like this for days now. It’s definitely a bit dramatic, but Bridgette listens attentively and with only a few sarcastic facial expressions as she picks at her lunch. It’s her only brother, so she can pardon a bit of theatricality.

Charlie tries to articulate the issue further, but it’s a challenge. He struggles to put into words that he just doesn’t… feel like himself, like even more so than usual. He’s off-balance, in some fundamental way, and now it’s leeching his dance ability, too.

> **Charlie:** I guess it’s a good thing I’m not looking into dance schools. Good thing, because they’d probably have to laugh me off the stage with my useless, damned limbs that no longer work. That is, if I didn’t pass out from embarrassment and they had to drag me out instead.

> **Bridgette:** Okay, let’s cap it there, Chuckles. I think you’ve exceeded your daily limit of anxious hyperbole.

Beneath the exaggeration, Bridgette thinks she has an idea about what might be causing his lack of rhythm. She knows it because she’s seen it in herself. Charlie is set adrift, floating by with no support system to act as his gravity. No matter how independent or capable you are, it’s difficult to navigate that kind of existence, let alone at the peak condition you were in before.

> **Bridgette:** When I began my grand exile, it was scary. Sure, I made it work, but every single day had a new challenge that I had to face. That’s hard no matter what, but it’s even worse to do it on your own. When you made the jump to switch schools, even if it was your choice, you threw yourself into the same landscape. The way of your world is different now, and naturally, you’re going to change with it. Least of all with no support.

> **Charlie:** I have support. This isn’t like what happened to you.

> **Bridgette:** Oh, trust me, I’m not saying it is. Especially because much of your torment, at least to me, seems self-inflicted. I know that God taught us to punish ourselves whenever possible, but… I mean, when was the last time you saw your friends from school? Aside from the humiliating track race or whatever.

Charlie shrugs off the question, beating around the bush with vague non-answers. He’s _seen_ them. At times. Once or twice. Within the past six months. And he still sees Riley. And talks to Clarissa and Haley. Sometimes. When he feels like he’s not intruding on them (which is rarely). Bridgette nods along, accenting her point.

> **Bridgette:** You’re  _ adrift_. You can’t expect yourself to have rhythm when you don’t have balance. _ [ a beat ]  _ I’m not saying you have to like, jump back into that world and pretend everything is the same. If you really think staying away from that crowd is the best thing, then I won’t argue with you. But based on what you’ve told me, I’m not sure that it is. And either way, you can’t keep stumbling your way through with no one to ground you. When it happened to me, I made new friends. Found new mentors. Rebuilt my life around the new normal, but I did it with people to back me up. Either you need to fix your old support circle, or you’ve got to find a new one.

Neither option seems particularly appealing to Charlie. He frowns at his food, pushing it around on his plate rather than eating it. He examines Bridgette for a long moment, contemplating what she said.

> **Charlie:** Do you miss us?

The question seems to catch her off guard. She keeps her gaze trained down at the table, chewing the inside of her cheek -- a habit they both have. Then she sighs, meeting his eyes. Her tone is more delicate than before.

> **Bridgette:** Dad and… it’s complicated. But you guys… yeah. I mean, of course. Especially you and Rosie, being close in age to me and everything… I know it’s silly, but it kind of felt like my responsibility. Looking out for you. Just losing that…  _ [ a beat, then she shrugs ]  _ Whatever though. It’s not a big deal anymore. I’m sure they don’t even… they probably don’t think about me.

> **Charlie:** … I did.

Bridgette examines him. With his soft sincerity, it’s hard not to smile, even if it’s bittersweet.

> **Bridgette:** Most people aren’t like you, Charlie.

Charlie obviously doesn’t get what she means, but he doesn’t push it. His expression remains thoughtful, though, as they go back to their food.

**INT. AAA - JACK’S OFFICE - DAY**

JACK HUNTER is having lunch with Lucas, only their meals have been forgotten. They’re both much more focused on their discussion, going over elements of Lucas’s campaign platform and key points he needs in his arsenal for the debate.

Though the guidance is helpful, it’s more than clear that Lucas has done much of the work and policy-building on his own. More than that, he really _cares_ about it, impassioned and thorough as they walk through each of his main points.

Jack commends his work, claiming that it seems as though he hardly needs his help. Lucas rolls his eyes, thanking him anyway for his time. And Jack is _gifting_ him his time, based on his answer when Lucas asks what else is going on for him that afternoon. Lots of stuff to balance, with the school and meetings with the board regarding Yancy and everything in between.

> **Lucas:** Offense intended, but is all you do obsess over Triple A and attempt to mentor me? Both of which are the worst jobs on planet Earth?

> **Jack:** Offense taken. Neither are bad jobs.

> **Lucas:** I’m just saying, you were the one saying you have a life outside of this school. Where is it? Don’t you ever like… have fun? Or friends? Or address your basic needs?

> **Jack:** Whew, if  _ you’re _ lecturing me about this, then I must really be in trouble.

> **Lucas:** Yeah, well, that’s what happens when you get a girlfriend who is relentless about mental and emotional health. _ [ a beat ]  _ Which I can say because I  _ have _ a girlfriend, so.

Point made, Lucas. Jack ignores his metaphorical mic drop, redirecting him to the task at hand. His policies are well-crafted and he’s got plenty of points practiced and ready at his disposal. All he has to do is deliver them well at the debate, and everything will be fine.

**INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY**

As the seniors are regrouping after lunch in the front and center section, Maya is leading the conversation. She’s gushing about Gabi, who was her former big sibling through AAA.

> **Maya:** She was like, the crème de la crème of her year. Big talent, super amazing. You know, like me.

> **Zay:** Oh, just what the world needs. More Maya Harts.

> **Maya:** With her killer vocals and irresistible charm, I’m sure she’s been doing so many awesome things. I can’t wait for her to spill all about it so I can adjust my trajectory accordingly. Any smart diva knows to adjust to additional information.

Gabi walks back in with Simone just then, returning Maya’s enthusiastic wave. Quinton and Harper join them and congregate at the front of the stage. Harper turns the floor over to the alumni to discuss what they did after AAA, what they’re doing now, and prime the conversation for the rest of the week.

Quinton doesn’t hesitate to step up first, launching into a long-winded and likely exaggerated explanation of all that he’s been up to. He jettisoned straight to Pace University after studying at Triple A, earning his undergrad degree in theater and vocal performance. From there it’s been a whirlwind of networking, accolades, and great performances, ha ha ha. When he talks, he almost sounds like Valerie De La Cruz, but he lacks her indisputable charm.

Simone speaks next, explaining that she spent her time at Triple A studying both technical arts and dance. But dance was the winner for her, which is why she worked hard to gain admittance to the Turner Academy of Dance. As she talks about the experience and how much she’s learned and experienced during the last three years -- now a senior in the program -- Zay sits up straighter in his seat. Now _that_ he finds interesting.

Finally, the baton is passed to Gabi. She states that she graduated from Triple A and went straight into the performance major at NYU Tisch. She’s a sophomore now, and she spent all of freshman year in the program, continuing her training, and learning plenty. Maya nods along, pointedly looking at Farkle and Isadora. _See? What did I tell you?_

> **Gabi:** But I actually discovered, while in the program, that it wasn’t what I thought it would be. Though I still like performing, I found much more interest in my general studies courses and found a passion for science that I hadn’t listened to before. So, this semester I officially changed my major from performing arts to biology, and I’m hoping to pursue a career in pediatrics.

Although she delivers the news cheerfully, the effect such an announcement has on the A class is staggering. Most of them react in shock, particularly Maya, whose jaw drops open in disbelief.

> **Gabi:** That was the main reason I was so happy to accept Harper’s invitation to come back and do this with you all. Because even though pursuing the arts can be highly fulfilling and exactly where you’re meant to be, as my fellow alumni up here can attest, I also wanted to come back and show you all that it’s okay to change your mind, too. Even if you spent the last four years here! You can still have a relationship with the arts if you decide not to chase it as a career.

A strong sentiment, and a true one at that. An excellent point for Gabi to make this early in the future-thinking stage -- though the A class doesn’t necessarily appear ready for it. They’re still locked in a state of shock, trying to process the reality that she has presented for them.

They’re not all going to make it. They’re not all going to succeed in the arts, whether by choice or by circumstance. It’s a fact they know in the back of their minds, but aren’t used to confronting so blatantly.

> **Farkle, pre-lap:** It can be a shock, when your life suddenly changes like this. When everything you thought you knew gets flipped upside-down.

**EXT. NEW YORK STREETS - DAY**

Farkle is walking along with Isadora down the streets of one of the shopping districts, beginning his first “rich lesson.” As he puts it, suddenly having more money is _not_ something to be ashamed of. And the first thing she should do, now that she has it, is make sure her own needs are being met.

> **Isadora:** My needs are met. I have a roof over my head and food to eat. And now I have Eric, too, which was already more than I’ve had most of my life. Is there more than that?

> **Farkle:** I don’t know, you tell me. When was the last time you wore jeans that weren’t ripped in about five different places?

Well… maybe that’s just fashion, Farkle. It isn’t, in her case, but it could be! Farkle brushes off her indignation, stating that there’s nothing wrong with upgrading your wardrobe or giving yourself new things. Especially with such major stuff coming up, like college interviews, it will be good to have a fresh set of clothes to rifle through and strike the perfect first impression.

> **Isadora:** And what,  _ you’re _ supposed to help me with that? Mister blazer?

> **Farkle:** First of all, the blazer is a staple of any good professional wardrobe. But no, I figured I should call for back-up.

And back-up he’s got -- in the form of Dylan Orlando. He’s waiting for them outside the shop where Farkle plans to start their spree, greeting Isadora cheerfully. She looks between the two of them, honestly surprised to see her two favorite people who usually exist in such separate worlds coming together.

> **Farkle:** I’m a recent convert to the philosophy that having friends from many different perspectives can help you out of the darkest corners. A Catholic pulled me out of despair about athletics, and this fashion disaster can help you with this.

> **Dylan:** That’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me.

> **Farkle:** That, and I figured having someone you’re comfortable with might make the notion of changing things up a little easier to swallow.  _ [ looking at her ]  _ So? Are you in?

Isadora examines them, nervous, but intrigued as well. Their excitement is infectious, so even though she’s still reluctant to have money -- let alone use it -- she nods.

Dylan and Farkle smile, just as the energetic guitar kicks off.

* * *

**INT. SHOPPING CENTER - DAY**

**Song Cue ♫ ♪ “A Change Would Do You Good” as performed by Glee Cast || Performed by Farkle Minkus & Dylan Orlando (feat. Isadora De La Cruz)**

What kind of good, fun young adult series doesn’t have a shopping spree / makeover montage? Only in _AMBITION_ , you know we gotta set it to music. Dylan and Farkle share the vocals on this upbeat, pop-rock jam, guiding Isadora through the highs and lows of shopping for a style that feels like herself. For once actually shopping with _her_ agency, no one and nothing else to answer to when it comes to how to spend her money.

Naturally, this comes with plenty of misses. The three of them cycle through items and looks, Dylan and Farkle more playful than Isadora, who is seriously attempting to find new clothes. She goes through a wide range of ensembles, the boys’ reactions signaling whether it’s a win or a suggested veto. There’s also joy in the antics they take part in while trying things on, the classic stuff of looking in the mirror and taking pictures together.

**EXT. NEW YORK STREETS - DAY**

Isadora doesn’t join in on the vocals until the bridge, when the three of them dash back out into the city. They dart through the hustle and bustle, dancing and jumping as they go, now with Isadora leading the charge with shopping bags in hand. Even if she’s not sure about this new life, she’s with her best friends, and _that_ is enjoyable no matter how rich she is.

* * *

**INT. ERIC’S APARTMENT - ISADORA’S BEDROOM - NIGHT**

Isadora is in the process of moving items from the many shopping bags by her feet into her considerably sparse closet when Eric knocks on her open bedroom door. He’s holding a thick wad of paper, which Isadora doesn’t seem to notice as she looks over her shoulder to give him a smile. She hangs up an oversized denim jacket while Eric leans against her desk. He takes in the bags of clothes on the floor with amusement.

> **Eric:** I take it your first “rich lesson” went well, then?

> **Isadora:** It was actually kind of fun. It was like one of those movie makeover montages -- only it took hours rather than three minutes while an upbeat song plays.

Maybe for you, Isa, but not for us. She hangs up something else, then turns to face Eric properly.

> **Isadora:** Honestly, though, I kept thinking about Valerie. The last time I went shopping like that was when she took me to get a prom dress. We didn’t end up getting anything since she insisted “her dear friend Jason Wu” throw something together, but...

> **Eric:** I remember. Did the memories intrude on the fun?

> **Isadora:** _ [ smiling slightly ]  _ No. It was nice to remember, in a way. Everything was going well with us then.

Eric expresses that he’s glad she seems to be processing her memories better now, before bringing attention to the papers in his hands.

> **Eric:** This is the official paperwork for the inheritance.  _ [ puts it on her desk ]  _ You have all the time you need to figure out what you want to do, so there’s no pressure.

Isadora glances at the paperwork with anxiety. It’s a physical representation of the weight currently on her shoulders, and despite Eric’s words, she can’t help but feel an immense amount of pressure.

**INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY**

The alumni trio are gathered outside the dressing room hall, looking at a flyer for the student body president debate that afternoon. Quinton is especially reminiscent, obviously fond of his shining high school days. Remember the excitement, the drama and high stakes of school politics? Just the juiciest, and so simple compared to the real world.

> **Quinton:** I was president when _ I  _ was a senior here. Did you know that?

> **Simone:** (: Of course you were…

Given his personality, suffice to say it’s not surprising. Gabi says they should get ready to head back into class, nudging Quinton along. He takes charge, gearing their conversation towards the current senior class as they go.

> **Quinton:** Did you know that the daughter of  _ Valerie De La Cruz _ is in this class? Talk about a hot connection. I’ll tell you, the wise ones are going to be the ones who utilize that contact to the fullest -- I mean, the advantages she’ll have --

> **Simone:** Or maybe they’re actually friends.

> **Quinton:** Oh, well, sure. Friendship is wonderful, the backbone of society, blah blah blah. But the smart ones are going to choose those friendships wisely. And with a star power backing like that…

**INT. AAA - DRESSING ROOM HALL - DAY**

The two of them continue on through the hall, Simone obviously disgusted by Quinton’s opportunistic outlook on things. She pushes past him, Gabi bringing up the rear, when Riley pokes her head out of the dressing room. She asks Gabi if she has a second to chat, who agrees happily and steps into the room to join her.

**INT. AAA - GIRLS DRESSING ROOM - DAY**

Riley apologizes for taking up her time, but Gabi waves off the concern kindly. That’s what she’s there for, she reminds her. To advise and guide. She prompts Riley to discuss whatever she wanted to discuss, sincere in her support. Though it clearly takes an effort for her to honestly articulate, Riley eventually gets to the root of the issue.

> **Riley:** How did you decide to change your major? I mean, to not pursue the arts? I’m not saying I want to either way -- I haven’t really made up my mind -- but I can’t imagine how to even go about that kind of decision. How did you… I mean… what made you decide not to chase the dream forever?

Gabi understands her hesitation. The way people revere it here at Adams, it’s no surprise the idea of not being an artist feels so daunting. She remembers, she was there once. And she didn’t even have those doubts when she was still here -- she jumped into her major at Tisch full of enthusiasm and eager to make it happen. And it wasn’t a bad experience.

> **Gabi:** I had to give it a try before I understood anything definitive, for starters. And I don’t regret the time I spent on that path, I wouldn’t change it for anything. It taught me plenty, about that world and about myself. I still love performing, by the way, it’s not like I suddenly fell out of love with singing or lost all my passion.

> **Riley:** So how did you know?

> **Gabi:** I’m not sure what it was, but I just started to realize that while I would always love performing, there were other things I cared about more.

For her, it was science, and children, and the future of pediatrics. Where she could really make a difference -- even if she sang along the way. For Riley, in her journey, it could be anything. Gabi states that the most important thing she would want her to understand is that whatever she decides to do, it’s okay. At the end of the day, the only person Riley needs to answer to is herself.

Big task for a girl who puts the needs of everyone else before her own. Although it wasn’t a crystal clear answer, Riley thanks Gabi for her advice.

> **Jack, pre-lap:** _ Ladies and gentlemen, you could’ve been anywhere in the world today -- _

* * *

**INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY**

**Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Cabinet Battle #1” as performed by** _**Hamilton** _ **Original Broadway Cast || Performed by Chai Fresco & Lucas James Friar (feat. Jack Hunter & Sarah Carlson)**

The auditorium is more packed with students than we’ve ever seen, representatives from all grades gathering to witness the presidential debate between Chai and Lucas. While she’s confident and relaxed, gabbing it up with her campaign team -- mainly SARAH CARLSON -- on her side of the stage, Lucas is trying to keep cool. He listens to last-minute policy reminders from Asher as he reads them off flashcards, and Riley stands behind him rubbing his shoulders and hyping him up.

Jack stands on stage and takes the role of Washington, getting the audience amped up for the back and forth. When things are just about to start, Riley wishes Lucas luck and gives him a kiss on the cheek, assuring him he’ll do great before dashing down to join the seniors in the house.

I’ll be straight-forward and say from the get-go that obviously, this song does not translate directly. We’re more so using the _format_ of the _Hamilton_ track than the actual lyrics, and the throwdown would center more on the topics we know are up for debate -- Lucas wanting support for scholarships, the techies, and underprivileged students at AAA, whereas Chai speaks for the advantaged (the wealthy, the performers, etc.) who are fine with the status quo. This would be smooth and well-articulated with lyrics of our own. I just don’t have that to give you, because I’m not Lin Manuel-Miranda. But you get the idea! It’s engaging! It’s riveting! Musical politics!

Chai takes the position of Jefferson, suave, poised, and sophisticated. All that, but she still doesn’t offer much substance in her platform. She does take the opportunity to harpoon Lucas’s ideas though, knocking them as idealistic and costly while reminding the constituents of his track record at the school.

She shrugs her shoulders cheekily when Jack thanks her, giving the floor to Lucas. As he gets up, it’s like his team is holding their breath, Riley clasping her hands like a prayer in the audience.

> **Riley, under her breath:** Come on…

For all the (rightful) nerves people had about how Lucas would perform, he starts off strong as he takes the Hamilton role. He’s very knowledgeable about his policies, giving a clear outline of his scholarship plan, his ideas for expanding resources, ways to build connection throughout the grade levels. His retorts to Chai are concise, relevant, and to the point, and he’s careful to highlight the fact that Chai dumped the school for a whole year so she’s definitely out of touch (the equivalent of _“Don’t lecture me about the war; you didn’t fight in it!”_ )

Where he screws up is in letting his passion get the better of him. His tactful expression of vision and policy quickly devolves into his frustration with his opponents, following the pattern of Hamilton in the original by attacking the characters of Sarah and Chai and generally dunking on them, before dropping the mic with an absolute killer -- but very inappropriate -- last word (i.e. _“Hey, turn around, bend over, I’ll show you where my shoe fits!”_ )

Naturally, the students erupt after that. In the audience, Riley grimaces, jumping up to go help calm things down. Zay, Yindra, and Nigel are in stitches, amazed at how ridiculous this school can get but now going to vote for Lucas after that hysterical display. Chai steps to Lucas, causing Jack to jump in and break them apart. He tells everyone to take a recess, demanding that Lucas have a word with him in his office.

Riley comes over to join Lucas, trying to talk him down, when Chai and Sarah make a point of taunting him.

> **Sarah:** _ You don’t have the votes! _

> **Sarah/Chai:** _ You don’t have the votes! _

> **Sarah:** _ Ah ha ha ha! _

> **Sarah/Chai:** _ You’re gonna need voter approval and you don’t have the votes! _

> **Chai:** _ Such a blunder, sometimes it makes me wonder why I even bring the thunder. _

> **Sarah:** _ Why she even brings the thunder! _

Before Lucas can get wrapped up in the drama again Riley yanks him around, nudging him towards an exit to go meet with Jack. But she’s not above retorting, sticking her tongue out at them over her shoulder as they march away.

**INT. AAA - JACK’S OFFICE - DAY**

The remainder of the performance unfolds essentially par to the original, Jack attempting to keep Lucas calm while reminding him that he needs to find a way to get more people behind him rather than lashing out. Lucas claims what they _need_ is this plan, his policies, but Jack points out that is exactly what politics is -- getting other people to believe in his vision, too. He needs to convince more folks, and if he can’t do that, well, then he won’t be president.

Tough love, but it’s true. Lucas absorbs the warning, frustrated by the bureaucracy but having no choice but to play the game.

* * *

**INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY**

Isadora emerges from the dressing room and nearly walks right into a huddle of underclassmen. She almost pushes right through them when she hears the aloof, above-it-all voice of MISSY BRADFORD. Isadora steps back out of sight to eavesdrop, listening as she and DARBY WINTERS debrief the debate with the gaggle of girls.

While Darby seems thoughtful and uncertain about her support for Chai, as her friend, Missy is more focused on Lucas’s performance. She loftily gives him credit for his fiery delivery -- certainly engaging to watch, if nothing else -- but is he _presidential_? Being hot and impassioned doesn’t make for a perfect candidate.

> **Darby:** Well, he did have a pretty thorough policy platform.

> **Missy:** Is that how you saw it? I thought his points were relatively narrow. So much about the scholarships and the funding business. And I get it, that’s like, important to him since it’s the only thing keeping him here. But what if you’re not on the poverty line? I understand the ethos of appealing to the most underprivileged anger, but you have to win the  _ majority _ to win the race. What’s he going to do for those of us who don’t care about the money?

Half of the assembled crowd seems to agree, in spite of the lack of nuance and empathy that perspective holds. Isadora takes this in, grappling with two grim realizations -- one, Lucas’s passionate platform meant to do good might be the thing that takes him down. And two, Missy is exactly what she could become when money really starts flowing into her life. She’s exactly what Isadora is terrified of becoming, out of touch and lacking empathy for the have-nots.

Isadora grimaces, pushing out of her hiding spot and darting past the circle without notice.

**INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY**

Chai finishes cleaning up post-debate, calling after Quinton as he heads out of the house. He’s still hanging around because he was holding court with some freshmen, impressing them with bold tales of his luxurious life in the real world as an _artiste_. He hangs back when Chai requests a moment, sliding off the front of the stage.

> **Quinton:** Of course, that’s what I’m here for. You’re Tai, right?

> **Chai:** Actually, it’s Chai --

> **Quinton:** Like Brittany Murphy in  _ Clueless_. So glamorous. You could match her effortless charm… if you got some curls and shook up your droll delivery a little bit.

> **Chai:** What?

> **Quinton:** Anyway, is this about your dancing? I saw your moves during Simone and Gabi’s little warm-up the other morning. Now I’m not saying it’s hopeless, but it’s a good thing you came to me. Everyone is all over Simone as the dancing queen, but just because you go to some elite dance program --

> **Chai:** No, um, that’s not what I wanted to ask about. I heard that you won student body president your senior year.

> **Quinton:** Oh, you know I did. It was a bloody battle, a real nail-biter -- except not really, because it was never a question who was going to come out on top. Not really. No matter what you might see in the archives. You know how the media hates a winner. There’s a reason the A/V department is so dead.

> **Chai:** Yeah, sure. I was just wondering… how did you bolster your campaign? Around this point of the race? Not that I’m all that concerned, or anything -- I mean, you saw my competition.

> **Quinton:** Oh, I saw him all right. God  _ damn_, they did not make techies like that when I was here. Did they do some kind of broody, sensual casting call when making your class? If it were me up there having all that intense, passionate back-and-forth with him --

> **Chai:** _ [ disturbed by the prospect ] _ So anyway, I don’t think I’m in trouble, but I will take any advice I can to strengthen my advantage. Is there anything you did that you think might be worth repeating?

Oh, Quinton could talk her ear off all day. He does _everything_ right, so he may as well relay his whole election process. Chai escapes that punishment swiftly, instead asking for what he thinks was a game changer for him, a maneuver that really won him some favor. That, he has an easy answer for.

> **Quinton:** You know what truly wins over the people? A fête. I threw a huge party for my class, and that locked them in easily. If you’re looking to connect with your base, at least, a social gathering is the obvious move.

Chai absorbs this, processing it. That may not be such a bad suggestion.

**INT. AAA - CAFETERIA - DAY**

In fact, Chai doesn’t wait long to seize the opportunity. Given that her mother will be gone for the rest of the week, she jumps on the plan and announces to the cafeteria of juniors and seniors that she’ll be hosting a “campaign event” at her estate Friday night to mingle with constituents and convince them exactly why they should be voting for her. Details will be shared on her social media, which they should all follow for relevant updates from their future president.

The A class senior performer table processes this news, Yindra, Nigel, and Zay watching in amusement as Maya leaps up from her spot with Farkle and Isadora to storm off. Obviously, she was not pleased by Chai’s announcement. Nigel comments once again that this school is so ridiculous, though he doesn’t see why Chai is bothering. After Lucas’s absolutely feral takedown of her during the debate, he’s got his vote.

Zay nods along, but Yindra says they should let Chai throw her party. It’s just free fun and entertainment for them, and if there’s going to be alcohol, then that’s even better. Nigel reminds her that she just said “campaign event,” but Zay is on a different train of thought entirely. Even if Chai throws a rager, why should he go? He’s not going to vote for her, and is it worth it to waste time and energy on that when they’ve got things to do? Showdown semi-finals are next week, and application season is getting serious now.

Though he isn’t _wrong_ , his dedication to hard work is becoming repetitive rather than inspiring. Yindra is especially unimpressed, innocently wondering with just a slight edge where her fun-loving best friend went? Is he on vacation? And does he have a return date?

Zay glares at her, obviously getting a little miffed at her constant rebuffs, too.

> **Zay:** I’m exactly who I’ve always been. And it’ll be worth it when I get where I’m meant to go.

He doesn’t have interest in arguing further. He excuses himself, Yindra telling him not to get all huffy, but he doesn’t comment either way as he heads out of the cafeteria.

**INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY**

As he’s exiting the cafeteria, he runs into Riley, who is on the phone. She tells the person on the call to wait just a second, holding the device to her shoulder as she chats with Zay. She tries to make conversation with him, but he brushes her off yet again, claiming he’s going to get a quick run-through of his routine in. Riley tries not to let the dismissal sting, watching him march off for a moment before focusing back on her call.

**INT. HAVERFORD PREP - HALLWAY - DAY**

She’s chatting with Charlie, giving him updates about everything going on, including Chai’s most recent announcement. It’s clear they’ve been discussing his own loss of rhythm dilemma, because she brightly suggests that he should come to Chai’s party, too. She’s planning to go as a scout of sorts for Lucas, and it’ll be much more fun if he’s there.

> **Charlie:** Riley, I’m not a student there anymore. Chai isn’t trying to win my vote.

> **Riley:** Oh, like she’ll even notice you’re there. And your  _ friends _ will, which is what matters! We miss you, and it’ll be the perfect place to jump back into the mix.

Charlie doesn’t seem convinced, but there is a wistfulness to his expression as he considers the idea. Bridgette pointed out how untethered he is, and now it’s like he can’t stop thinking about it. It would be nice to see everyone again, in a setting where the focus _isn’t_ on his presence…

**INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY**

Riley asks him to at least consider it -- seriously consider it, unlike the back-to-school carnival -- but before she can get confirmation from him she’s accosted. Maya intercepts her, informing her with admirable yet unsettling intensity that Lucas’s campaign team needs to have an emergency meeting after school. _No ifs, ands, or buts._

It’s not clear when exactly Maya decided she was a part of -- or apparently running -- Lucas’s campaign, but Riley doesn’t argue. She lets Charlie know that she’ll text him details as soon as she has them, hanging up and jogging after Maya.

**INT. CHUBBIES - DAY**

Lucas’s “team” -- i.e. Riley, Maya, Dylan, Asher, and Lucas himself -- are gathered around the corner booth at Chubbies, going over the latest polling data and discussing Chai’s latest move. Maya is the most incensed about it, but it’s not clear if she’s worried about the campaign or if she’s just mad she didn’t think of it first.

> **Maya:** It’s an obvious bribery, a pathetic display of money-flaunting to win over the vote. It makes me sick. I’m going to end her whole career. She thinks she can just buy her way into a victory? Chickie has another thing coming.

> **Riley:** Okay, well, let’s not do anything crazy…

> **Maya:** Shh, I’m thinking.  _ [ closing her eyes, waving her hands ] _ I’m brainstorming… I’m having a vision…

She jumps to her feet, going to pace while she visualizes her return attack. Dylan and Asher glare at her, unimpressed, then turn back to Riley and Lucas.

> **Asher:** Anyway. Dylan and I can go stake out the party, report back if we hear anything or think it’s going to make a major difference.

> **Dylan:** But I’m not worried. Chai is still way down in popularity, since she dipped right after all the shit from sophomore year. Not that you’re the peak of popularity either --

> **Lucas:** Again, you all should be my publicity team. Oh, wait…

> **Dylan:** The point is, she’ll have to pull  _ hella _ favor from this party to win a majority, and I don’t see that happening.

> **Asher:** We’ll keep an eye out just in case though.

Lucas nods. Asher and Dylan head out, nearly running into Maya in her creative pacing. They glare at each other before Dylan nudges Asher past her and out the door. As Lucas heads back to the counter, Riley gives him a kiss on the cheek and assures him it’s all going to work out. She passes Isadora on her way out, exchanging a bright greeting with her.

Isadora approaches Lucas at the counter, congratulating him on a great debate performance. Full disclosure, she wasn’t sure he had it in him, but he killed it. He thanks her sarcastically, rolling his eyes at her commentary, but it’s all pretty playful. He asks her how homecoming week is going for her, and she claims that aside from how obnoxious that Quinton guy is and that he’s mentioned her mom offhandedly about a half-dozen times, just peachy.

Then she carefully broaches the subject of his campaign, trying to find the right way to go about it. Considering Lucas didn’t ask for her advice, it’s not going to go well. Isadora points out that while his showing at the debate was compelling, and she thinks his platform is good, would it hurt to maybe… diversify it a bit? Vary what issues he wants to run on? The playful mood dissolves, Lucas growing wary.

> **Lucas:** I think it’s smarter to be direct and precise. Better to have one or two issues you care about than a vague, vast platform with no cause at all.

> **Isadora:** Oh, sure. For sure. I get that.  _ [ a beat ]  _ But do you think you’re going to reach enough people this way?

Maya is done brainstorming and has tuned into their conversation, watching interestedly from a safe distance.

> **Lucas:** What’s that supposed to mean?

> **Isadora:** Don’t get all harsh, okay, you don’t need to get defensive. Your platform is good, I’m really not trying to criticize it. I’m just thinking… do you think it’s enough? Like, what about the voters who don’t care about the scholarship issue?

> **Lucas:** Why should I care about what they think?

> **Isadora:** Because you’re trying to win their favor? You’re trying to get elected. And I’m telling you that there are people who don’t give a shit about the money thing.

> **Lucas:** Yeah, people who have it.  _ [ frowning at her ] _ In fact, seems like you’re picking up on that mindset really fast.

It sucks that she isn’t communicating well enough, that her concern isn’t coming off genuine but rather tone deaf, the product of someone now having enough money to no longer care about who doesn’t. Naturally, Farkle has the worst timing. He shows up just as Isadora is searching for something to say back, the tension thick.

> **Farkle:** Hey. Ready for your next rich lesson?

Lucas scoffs, shaking his head. Isadora glares at him, then agrees, leading the way out the door. Farkle glances between them, totally lost, but Maya gives him a blithe wave as he follows Isadora in her exit. Lucas watches them go, embittered, tossing his busboy rag over his shoulder.

* * *

**Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Money, Money, Money” as performed by** _**Mamma Mia!** _ **Original Movie Cast || Performed by Maya Hart (feat. Lucas James Friar & AAA Seniors)**

_[ Lyrics specific to characters -- follow along_ [ _here_](https://docs.google.com/document/d/13QY_KWvhwn86uwEBPJfoEtnQC_Hr-UVjXEFRYL-u5kM/edit?usp=sharing) _! ]_

Lucas takes pieces of the spoken verses in this rendition, kicking off the performance as he sorts through orders on the counter behind him. His tone is frustrated and bitter, a contrast to Maya when she joins in. She’s lighter and more theatrical as she hops onto the stool opposite him, commiserating with him about the unfairness of being lower class. The rest of the poorer A class seniors -- Yindra, Nigel, Nate, Darby, Dave -- take the backing vocals as they’re scattered throughout the diner.

**INT. AAA - DRESSING ROOM - DAY**

The first rendition of the chorus takes place in a dramatized version of the dressing room, darkened for mood and emphasis. It’s a dramatized version of Lucas and Maya as well in this space, both of them projecting imaginary ideas of what they’d be like if they weren’t on or under the poverty line. For Lucas, that means dressed decently, no longer wasting his days at Chubbies, fielding scores of letters from universities that he’s practically wading through and not having to worry about any of the bullshit he usually does. For Maya, that just means glam, faux fur coats and high fashion and opulence to spare.

**INT. CHUBBIES - DAY**

On the second verse, Maya kicks up the drama, blurring the lines between reality and melodrama in the diner once again. She climbs onto the countertop when she talks about Las Vegas, reclining back against it and throwing up some spare dollar bills so that they rain down on her. Watching her from above, we slowly zoom in on her, the screen darkening until --

**INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY**

We’re thrown into the dramatized auditorium, all of the poor A class seniors now dressed in their idealized self and clearly rolling in money. It’s just the crop of them that takes on the rest of the performance, split between Maya rallying them in the diner and all of them grooving in sync on the stage. The dancing isn’t anything to be impressed by -- remember, Lucas is still there -- but it’s more about the fictitious glamor and edgy lighting that makes the number.

* * *

**EXT. MINKUS INTERNATIONAL - DAY**

Farkle leads the way up the steps to his building, holding the door open for Isadora.

> **Isadora:** I swear, I am never going to get used to your place.

**INT. MINKUS HOME - DAY**

Inside, Farkle explains that he pulled a pretty special favor for Isadora’s lesson this afternoon. They’re going to go over finance smarts from the person who knows it better than anybody.

**INT. MINKUS HOME - STUART’S STUDY - DAY**

And that person is STUART MINKUS. He smiles warmly when Farkle knocks on the door to announce their presence, rising to his feet to greet them. He comes over to shake Isadora’s hand, officially meeting her for the first time.

> **Stuart:** Sorry we’ve never had the pleasure of meeting before. Packed schedule, especially in the summer. The market is never hotter than the hot season!

> **Isadora:** … right.

> **Farkle:** If you need the expertise of the serious matters in handling money, there’s no one better to teach you. Budgeting, financing, stocks and bonds, you name it. My dad’s mastered it.

> **Stuart:** Oh, he’s flattering me -- a good technique, if you ever need to make a business deal. But come in, take a seat, take a seat. Let me know if you need anything, I’ll call for the butler to bring it up.

> **Isadora:** That’s okay. I’m good for now.

> **Stuart:** I have to admit, I’ve been looking forward to this ever since Farkle arranged it. I’ve been waiting to meet the fabled Isadora that he’s always talking about.

> **Farkle, quickly:** _ [ with wide eyes ]  _ Dad. Not relevant.

> **Stuart:** Apologies, apologies, you’re right. We should stay on topic, down to business -- that’s a lesson right there!

Isadora glances at Farkle out of the corner of her eye, who gives her an embarrassed half-smile. She mirrors it, amused, before settling in to listen to Stuart attentively.

**INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY**

The next day in class, Quinton is gearing up for an audience of his own. He’s taking the stage as the A class settles into the front and center section, explaining that he felt the best way to show them all about how bright the future promises to be is to show them what they could be -- that is to say, him!

After some strange, slightly tone deaf speech about talent and persistence and the right je ne sais quoi -- again, he wants to be Valerie De La Cruz, but he could never be Valerie De La Cruz -- Quinton cues up the music.

> **Quinton:** This, young ones, could be you one day. Just remember that while you’re being blown away.

> **Nate:** Can I be blown out of this performance?

The techies snicker, but Quinton doesn’t hear him. He takes center stage, signaling for the lights to go down. Proper lighting, always necessary.

* * *

**Song Cue ♫ ♪ “To Where You Are” as performed by Josh Groban || Performed by Quinton Marks III**

Okay so, here’s the thing. Purely from a performing perspective, Quinton is _good_. He has amazing vocals, on full display from his chosen number. He mimics Josh Groban’s full range and powerful delivery to a tee, near masterful in that respect. If we were just watching him sing, with no context involved, it would be an incredibly good performance.

But we’re not. We’re at a high school, during homecoming week, trying to share wisdom and encourage the _current_ senior class, not show off and relive the glory days. So the whole thing feels pretty hollow, gilded gold with an empty shell. It’s made even more offensive by his choice of song. It’s an emotional ballad towards a lost loved one, wanting to reunite with a parted beloved… coming from someone with no such experience.

And right in front of someone who is still grieving. Isadora only makes it about halfway through the performance before it becomes too much. She gets up from her seat and makes a quick exit through the house, Farkle and Riley watching after her in concern.

* * *

As the performance wraps up, Harper reluctantly starts the applause first, the A class remembering they’re supposed to do that and joining in accordingly. Quinton does a proud bow, thanking them. Or, well, actually --

> **Quinton, genuine:** You’re welcome. You’re so, so welcome.

Jeff leans over, addressing Farkle again.

> **Jeff:** Okay, I take it back. Even you’re not that bad.

Quinton blows a kiss, so happy to have given them an irreplaceable gift.

**INT. AAA - TECHNICIAN’S BOOTH - DAY**

Riley goes to find Lucas when they’re dismissed for breakout groups, asking if he witnessed that atrocity while working the lights. Witnessed it? Sure. However… he taps the window pointedly.

> **Lucas:** Closed. Greatest defense against diva wailing.

Riley laughs. Crazy alumni aside, she changes the subject and asks if he’s planning on going to Chai’s party. When he snorts and asks why he would ever do that, she shrugs.

> **Riley:** It might be smart? Use her own tactic against her, you know. She can’t gain an advantage by wooing the constituents if you’re also there winning them over.

> **Lucas:** I don’t think I have ever successfully  _ wooed _ anybody in my nineteen years of living. And before you say otherwise, you do not count. That’s still a confounding anomaly and shouldn’t be counted. _ [ off her eye roll ] _ It would be weird, intruding on her event when it’s specifically meant to be opposing me. And it also sounds like a nightmare. Besides, I have work. If I’m trying to go to college, as everyone suddenly thinks I should, the money to do so isn’t going to mysteriously materialize.

Yeah… Riley can tell he’s stressed about that. They don’t talk about it much, but for all of the excitement there’s been about all the new things he’s doing and ambitions he might be discovering, there’s always been this caveat. This sour note in the midst of so much hopeful energy, and she’s never missed it. And now there’s the election, which adds a whole other layer of judgment and stakes and conditions to how he moves forward, ways in which many of their classmates will never have to think.

So she moves closer, stopping him from absentmindedly going through binders and getting him to stand still for a second. She takes his hands, grounding him, telling him that she hears him. She gets that it’s all… a lot. Of course it’s fine if he doesn’t want to go. He knows that she and Dylan and Asher will have his back.

> **Riley:** Hey.  _ [ tilting his head to look at her ]  _ You know I believe in you, right? Everything is going to work out. The election, the money, the future…

> **Lucas:** I know, I know. At least,  _ you _ seem to know, so I’m just going off your word.

Riley beams, pulling him into a quick, affectionate kiss. She examines him, tentatively offering another solution.

> **Riley:** Whatever’s bothering you… we can talk through it if you want. You know I’m always here to listen. Maybe that’ll help, to organize your thoughts and talk it out.

> **Lucas:** Uh, no. _ [ a beat ] _ I mean… no, it’s okay. I’ve got it. Thanks, though. Really.

That’s obviously not the answer Riley was hoping to hear. But she takes it in stride, managing a smile and accepting it only a little reluctantly.

**INT. AAA - JACK’S OFFICE - DAY**

Another exercise in potential rejection is about to unfold, Eric appearing in Jack’s office during lunch. He casually munches on some almonds as the two of them recap their impression of the debate yesterday.

> **Jack:** Aside from when I basically had to tranquilize Lucas for taking things too far, yeah, a near perfect showing.

Eric laughs, looking at Jack fondly. He crosses his arms as he leans in the doorframe, deciding to take the leap and say what he wants to say.

> **Eric:** Chai’s having her election event this Friday, so Isadora is going to be gone.

> **Jack:** Yeah, still not sure an event like that should be sanctioned, technically --

> **Eric:** I want to take you out. For dinner. Friday night.

Jack freezes. Is this for real? He gapes at Eric, caught off guard, searching for words in his brain. Any words at all.

> **Jack:** Do we think that’s a good idea?

> **Eric:** Is it a bad idea? Nothing wrong with dinner, is there?

Well, no. But they both know what that implies. Especially when it’s being so directly declared, rather than just casually figured out the night of.

> **Eric:** You could use the night off. We both could. And there’s that place up in Harlem you’ve been wanting to try _. [ a beat ]  _ Let’s go on a date, Jack. I promise the sky won’t fall in the meantime.

The sky is the least of Jack’s worries. But it seems like all things considered, he does want to go. After a moment of contemplation, he agrees, earning a grin and fist pump from Eric.

> **Jack:** But you’re driving.

> **Eric:** Have to, William’s still dead.

> **Jack:** You leave William out of this. And you’re paying for valet.

> **Eric:** Got it.

> **Jack:** … and we’re getting appetizers! And wine!

> **Eric:** I know you’re doing this to be obnoxious because you know we’re both living on a faculty budget, but I’m happy enough that I’ll let it slide. _ [ flashing a smile ]  _ See you on Friday, Jackie.

He disappears from the doorway before Jack can respond. He makes a face at the nickname, but then smiles, fiddling with his pen.

**INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY**

Just as Isadora is starting to feel like herself again, ready to rejoin the class for lunch, Quinton manages to corner her. He accosts her outside the dressing room hall, cheerfully stealing a moment of her time.

> **Quinton:** Isabella! So glad I caught you.

Isadora’s so caught off guard, she can’t evade him. He explains that he noticed she walked out of his performance.

> **Quinton:** It’s totally fine, of course. I’m always open to feedback, and honestly, being overcome with emotion is the greatest compliment there is. When a performance is that good, that moving --

> **Isadora:** It wasn’t that. It just, uh -- my mom…

> **Quinton:** Oh, yes. Yes, Valerie De La Cruz. Such a legend, a true inspiration to us all. Such a tragedy, everything that happened.  _ [ a beat, then moving on ] _ Well, with her blood in your veins, I’m sure you can identify a great performance when you see one. That being said, again, open to your feedback. A great artist always looks out for another artist, you know. Might be wise, you and me, being in each other’s corners. Lots of ways for us to help one another!

Isadora listens in disbelief, genuinely at a loss for how to respond. He thanks her for taking the time to chat, informing her that if she ever needs anything -- life advice, career advice, singing lessons -- she knows his name.

> **Quinton:** So great talking, Isabella. I think we’re going to be awesome allies. Okay, chat more later! Ciao!

He whisks himself away, leaving Isadora dumbstruck.

**INT. AAA - DANCE STUDIO - DAY**

Simone is actually doing something meaningful with the seniors, doing an optional dance workshop with some members of B class. They’re just wrapping up, the alumna giving them all genuine words of encouragement and last-minute advice before she releases them back into the world beyond the studio.

As they’re heading out, Zay pokes his head in the studio. He hangs back and waits for the chance to talk to Simone, a few stragglers still engaging her in conversation. But can’t blame them -- Simone has such a warm energy, a positivity and wisdom and confidence that makes you want to be around her. In some ways, actually, it’s exactly how other people view Zay.

Finally, it’s his turn. He approaches her politely, asking if she has the time to chat. Naturally, she does, as that’s the whole reason she comes back for these weeks. She points out that she’s seen him dance in bits and pieces this week so far -- he’s good! He has a natural rhythm, she saw that even during their Lizzo warm-up. Zay is touched by the compliment, as it’s coming from someone who clearly knows what she’s talking about.

> **Simone:** Honestly, between you and me, it’s nice being back in these walls. These in particular, the studio. I’m proud of what I’ve accomplished and I love being at Turner, and I’m excited for whatever comes next, but there’s something about this place. I used to spend hours in here practicing -- like a little sanctuary. Nutty, right?

> **Zay, excited:** No, me too! I mean, literally -- I feel like you’re me. Like, you’re  _ exactly _ what I want to be. To see someone who did it,  _ is _ doing it, is like… it’s amazing. And going to Turner and everything --

> **Simone:** Oh, Turner? You thinking about going to Turner?

> **Zay:** It’s my top choice. I’ve been rehearsing for the auditions basically since the summer. It’s the only thing I can manage to think about right now.

> **Simone:** Okay, okay! Like that energy. _ [ playfully ]  _ Well, if you wanna go to Turner, then let’s see what you’ve got.

Simone reaches for her phone, searching for the right jam. Zay watches her, uncertain, but brimming with kindred spirit and enthusiasm. He seems like himself, for the first time all semester.

> **Simone:** You follow SZA?

> **Zay:** _ [ with a snort ]  _ Do I? You insult me.

> **Simone:** Okay then, kiddo! _ [ laughing ]  _ Show me how you keep up.

* * *

**Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Prom” as performed by SZA || Performed by Simone Wilson & Zay Babineaux**

As the song first starts playing and Zay realizes what it is, for a split second melancholy takes over his expression. But then he’s back in focus, Simone finding her groove in the middle of the studio before launching into the first verse and freestyling some choreography as she goes.

Zay steps up to meet the challenge eagerly, coming to stand next to her and following her lead. It doesn’t take him long to catch onto her vibe, start picking up her choreography. Proving he can keep up, that dancing is in his bones. She lets him take the vocals on the second verse, slowly converting the Simone Says dance routine into more of a freestyle duet.

By the time they’re rounding out the performance, it’s a rendition of equals. The two of them stand back to back, riffing through the lyrics, before spending the last chunk passing back and forth freestyle dance solos. The energy is light, creative, like two good friends playfully competing rather than any sort of demonstration of skill.

It feels a lot like the freestyle afternoons Zay used to spend in this studio with a good friend.

* * *

When they wrap, Simone laughs, exchanging a high five handshake with him. She’s bright with inspiration.

> **Simone:** You  _ are _ good! I knew I had a good feeling about you.

> **Zay, breathless:** Good enough for Turner?

> **Simone:** Well, I won’t speak for them, but in my opinion? I’d take you in a heartbeat. You’re talented, but you’ve got the right spirit. That matters more, in my opinion.

To be fair, Simone, you’re getting the most authentic version of him we’ve seen in weeks. Zay seems relieved by the reassurance.

> **Simone:** If you’re serious about the Academy, you should come by and see it. Take a look around, get a better feel for what you’re applying for. I’d be happy to show you around this weekend.

> **Zay:** Are you kidding? That would be dope.

> **Simone:** For sure! Here, let me give you my info.

Zay hands over his phone, grin impossibly wide, bolstered with confidence and purpose. _This_ is what it’s all about, what he’s been killing himself over since the spring. Now, he’s starting to see it pay off.

**INT. HAVERFORD PREP - AUDITORIUM - DAY**

As Zay goes high, it seems as though Charlie sinks lower. No Turner expert would look at his dancing right now and say he’s got what it takes, still off his game and distracted while the Haverford seniors run through a number for their fall musical, _Newsies_. They’re half in costume, dressed in vests and corduroy pants -- Dweezil is already in his newsboy cap.

Charlie is off enough, in fact, that he’s growing destructive. He accidentally stumbles and runs into EVAN SCOTT, who collides with Billy, until all three of them go sprawling to the ground. The other boys scatter to avoid their collapse, Brandon signaling to halt the orchestra students.

> **Brandon:** Okay, I think that’s enough for today. _ [ glancing towards Charlie ]  _ But everyone should think about rehearsing at home in the meantime.

Yikes. But point taken. As the boys gather their things and head to the dressing rooms, Billy thanks Charlie for the bruises he just gave him.

> **Billy:** Didn’t take you for a fighter.

> **Charlie:** Ha ha.

> **Billy:** You know, I can help you run through the stuff if you need a little more practice. Gotta admit though, if you’re the best Adams had, I’m suddenly feeling really good about showdown this year.

> **Charlie:** Ha ha… but um, no, it’s cool. I’m just… having an off week.

Month. Season. Existence. Billy shrugs, stating that his offer still stands. Charlie appreciates it, but he says he’s just going to hang back and rehearse for a while on his own. He stays on the stage in his newsboy vest as the rest of them file out, Brandon giving him a sharp nod as he waits for the rest of them to leave.

Then, finally, it’s just Charlie, alone on the stage once again. He lets out a sigh, going to center stage and trying to find the music in his head.

> **Charlie:** Come on, Charlie… this is your thing…

But it’s hard when you’re adrift. As if to accent the point, it’s time for Charlie’s subconscious to intervene, in classic _AMBITION_ style.

> **Zay:** _ You don’t need money when you’re famous! _

Charlie jumps, whipping around. He looks for the speaker -- perhaps one of the Haverford boys hung around and he didn’t realize it -- but that voice sounded too familiar. And the hope on Charlie’s face is a little too tender for a Haverford boy.

> **Asher:** _ They give you whatever you want, gratis. _

> **Clarissa:** _ Such as? _

Charlie spins himself in a full circle, but it’s still just him on the stage. He takes a deep breath, closing his eyes and trying to center himself.

When he opens his eyes and turns to face the stage again, everything changes.

* * *

**Song Cue ♫ ♪ “King of New York” as performed by** _**Newsies** _ **Original Broadway Cast || Performed by Charlie Gardner & select AAA Seniors**

The stage is lit as if in performance, and Charlie is suddenly no longer the only person in the ensemble. The set is populated with people from his past, the people from Adams he misses the most -- Zay, Riley, HALEY FISHER, CLARISSA CRUZ, Farkle, Yindra, Nigel, Asher, and Dylan. They’re all dressed for the part as well, in newsies vests and show appropriate attire -- including the girls.

They repeat the opening we first heard a capella, his former classmates taking on the bulk of the number at first. They kind of dance _around_ him rather than with him, Charlie watching in amazement. He doesn’t get brought back into it until when Katherine is brought into it in the show, Riley declaring him the king of New York.

> **Charlie:** _ Who’da thunk? I’m the king of New York! _

Then it’s a spectacle of dance, all of them doing tap dancing and tricks and rallying around each other. Naturally, Dylan does a handspring. Charlie takes on the Katherine role again when they pull him into the center of attention about two and a half minutes in ( _“show us what you got!”_ ). He does a deceptively simple little tap diddy at first, earning the playful boos from his friends, before he launches into an impressive display, earning the cheers and applause. That’s the Charlie we know, _that’s_ the dancing we love to see!

Because he’s not drifting alone. He’s in his element when he’s surrounded by his support system, all of them dancing their way through the remainder of the number. Charlie doesn’t miss a beat, at the center of it all, not stumbling once.

* * *

When he hits the final step, energized and out of breath, it’s only him on the stage. As if the A class was never there, because of course they weren’t. But something has sparked in Charlie, a certainty shining in his eyes as he catches his breath.

**INT. HAVERFORD PREP - DRESSING ROOM - DAY**

Charlie gets a hold of Riley, phone pressed to his ear.

> **Charlie:** Hey.  _ [ a beat ] _ Did you get the details for Chai’s party yet?

_**Break 1.** _

**INT. CHUBBIES - DAY**

Lucas is just settling into his evening shift on Friday when Isadora shows up. She approaches the counter and tries to have another conversation with him, discussing how weird it is that Jack and Eric are going to like… go out tonight. Like, is that legal? Lucas also asks Isadora how she’s doing after Quinton’s melodramatic performance and following confrontation with her. She shrugs it off, but he makes it clear he’s got her back.

> **Lucas:** Believe me, I get ignoring it. That’s what I’ve been doing with Maya for the last three years, blocking out the egomania.

> **Isadora:** And weirdly enough, now she’s backing your campaign…

> **Lucas:** But I’m also saying that if you want to jump him, I’m in support. Tell me when and where and I’ll make it happen. No one will ever know we were there.

Isadora rolls her eyes, but she can’t help but laugh, too. It’s exactly their kind of usual banter, sort of puffed up and overly gritty, but sincere. She knows that he means it when he says he’d take care of it for her. After a moment, she speaks again.

> **Isadora:** You should come to Chai’s party, Lucas. It’ll be better with you there.

> **Lucas:** _ [ clamming up again ] _ I have to work.

> **Isadora:** Just because it’s your opponent’s thing doesn’t mean you can’t show up. In fact, maybe that’s exactly why you  _ should_. And it’s not like a  _ party _ party, you know, it’s a social gathering. A political mixer, basically. I know I’d want you there, so I’m sure others would too. And you could use the break --

Lucas bristles, that odd tension permeating their dynamic again. Though Isadora has good intentions, they don’t translate, her dismissal of his work schedule seeming like a tone deaf statement from someone who doesn’t get what life is like anymore now that she’s rich. As if that kind of change can happen in days, in an instant.

> **Lucas:** Some of us still have to work for a living. Money isn’t just going to fall out of the sky for everyone.

Okay, well… her mother did _die_ , Lucas. But he’s made his point. Isadora backs off, obviously upset by the remark but smart enough to let it go and not get into an argument now. She huffs, shaking her head.

> **Isadora:** I was just trying to… I don’t know. But you don’t have to be a bitch about it.

> **Lucas:** Sorry, is that something only the upper class can afford?

Isadora absorbs the dig, giving up. She rolls her eyes, sharply telling Lucas to have a good shift as she heads out. Lucas watches after her, clearly a bit remorseful at his outburst, but not sure how or whether he wants to take it back. He focuses on work instead, starting to go through order forms.

**INT. FRESCO ESTATE - MAIN FLOOR - NIGHT**

Chai’s party is in full swing… if you can call it that. Isadora was right when she said it wasn’t really a party, more of a professional meet-and-greet at best. Everyone is dressed for a night of fun but merely mingling around Chai’s elegant and spacious mansion, with marble floors and a wide array of snacks and drinks to pick at. Classical music plays on a nice sound system.

The woman of the hour is making rounds conversing with each of her classmates who showed up, which is most of the A class and a variety of other AAA students. She’s currently having a puzzling exchange with Nate, throwing her off her shining hostess game.

> **Nate:** Great shindig and everything, but I just think you shouldn’t get too comfortable. I could still catch you in the polls, you know! I’m not  _ that _ far behind.

> **Chai:** … are… are you still running?

> **Nate:** Keep one eye over your shoulder, London girl. I sneak up on ya fast!

Chai blinks, clearly at a loss for words.

Meanwhile, Riley is surveying the gathering, trying to gauge people’s moods. If they continue to seem pretty… unimpressed, then she can conclude this whole stunt isn’t a threat to Lucas’s own political game.

So far, so good. She convenes with Dylan and Asher, who are sharing a cup of fancy punch by the fireplace and also scanning the room for vibes. Riley asks them what their read of the situation is, and their response appears quite unconcerned. Asher shrugs.

> **Asher:** Pretty poor showing, from a planner perspective. Doubt it’s going to gain her much favor.

Dylan echoes the point by yawning indicatively, hiding half behind his cup with a mischievous smile. Riley gives them a look, like _don’t be bitchy gays_ , but she also looks amused so it’s not very convincing.

Some of their aloof superiority deflates when Chai herself approaches them, greeting them all cordially. She cuts right to the chase, making it clear she knows they’re there essentially to spy for the Friar campaign.

> **Riley:** That’s a bold accusation.

> **Chai:** Yes. One I’m fairly confident in. But that’s okay. I hope you’re enjoying yourselves either way. Everyone is welcome, after all. That’s what being a good politician, representative of the people, is all about.

> **Asher, quietly:** Or a spineless hack…

Chai narrows her eyes at him, but maintains her smile. She suggests a snack that the three of them should try, then flutters off to hear from more constituents.

Isadora and Farkle stand in a corner together, watching the goings on of the night from the sidelines. Farkle is trying to make casual conversation, pointing out some of their classmates' antics to joke about, but Isadora clearly isn’t in the mood for lighthearted chatter. She barely responds to anything he says, sipping from her drink with a frown and dark eyes. Farkle sighs, giving up on trying to distract her from whatever’s on her mind.

> **Farkle:** If you’re still bothered about the money issue, we can talk about it -- 

> **Isadora:** No. I’m not here to discuss money.  _ [ loftily ]  _ I’m here to invest in the politics of my community.

> **Farkle:** ... sure...

He mutters something about getting another drink and escapes from Isadora’s gloomy attitude just as Chai swoops over. Isadora stares blankly at the new arrival, who forces a smile. 

> **Chai:** Glad you could make it, Isadora. I won’t bore you with my campaign chatter, since I’m sure you’re voting for Lucas.

Something about Chai’s assumptions riles Isadora up. Especially since she and Lucas aren’t in top shape at the moment. She stands a little straighter in an attempt to meet Chai’s eyes at the same level. 

> **Isadora:** Says who? I want to consider all my options before making any decision.

> **Chai, surprised:** _ [ raising her eyebrows ]  _ Well... that’s good to hear. If unexpected.

> **Isadora:** Let’s hear your policies, then. _ [ crossing her arms ]  _ Wow me.

Challenge accepted. Chai smirks, smoothly launching into her spiel.

As they get wrapped up in conversation, Yindra and Nigel and Zay are gathered by the drink counter, discussing what a flame-out this turned out to be. Zay comments he probably could’ve gotten way more rehearsal in for his Turner audition rather than wasting his time here, which Yindra raises an eyebrow at but doesn’t comment on.

> **Nigel:** I don’t think Jade is here. Have you guys seen her?

> **Yindra:** Well, duh, no. Does Jade seem like a party animal to you, Nige?

> **Zay:** Even if she were, I don’t think this is a place where party animals are gathering.

Be that as it may, it doesn’t mean that people aren’t showing up. In fact, Charlie enters through the door right at that moment, uncertain but looking a little more casual in his usual clothes and his dark brown corduroy jacket as opposed to his Haverford uniform.

It only takes moments for people to spot him, Haley and Clarissa eagerly calling for him and rushing over to greet him. He smiles and exchanges hugs with them, grateful for the warm reception to help ground him again. They immediately launch into conversation with him, guiding him further in to get him reacquainted.

But not everyone is so excited to see him. Zay’s expression falls slightly, and he turns away to take a long drink of his beverage.

Chai comes over to welcome Charlie, the two of them exchanging awkward greetings. She’s not sure how to address him, since he’s no longer one of her potential voters, but she claims it’s nice to see him anyway. He was always one of the good ones, after all. Still, neither of them quite know what to say beyond small talk, as so much has changed since they went to school together. Including, pointedly, his transfer.

Thankfully, for the party and their stilted conversation, a new agent of chaos shows up to shake things up. Maya storms her way through the door with Darby and Sarah, tailed by a few dancers. They’re carrying what truly matters, what’s really going to turn the tides of the evening -- _alcohol_.

> **Maya:** I thought we were having a party? Looks like this thing could use a little Hart.

For a moment, there’s nothing but silence. Charlie glances at Chai, who is watching Maya like a hawk, not sure how this will be received or what’s going to happen next.

Then Nate tosses his plastic cup to the side, raising his hands in triumph.

> **Nate:** Oh,  _ hell _ yeah.

And just like that, the dam breaks. Everyone rushes over to greet Maya and usher in the drinks. She lets the chaos take over, devilish smile blooming across her face.

**INT. NICE RESTAURANT - NIGHT**

In contrast to that excitement, the locale Jack and Eric have chosen to have their date is quiet and classy. The lighting is low and the patrons are well-dressed, the two of them fitting in well freshly groomed in their suit jackets. They’ve progressed through a good portion of the meal, chatting as they do, and it seems like a comfortable evening out.

But something is off. They’re stiffer than they normally are with each other, a bit stilted. Too groomed, too formal. And they can only ignore it for so long, Jack finally placing his fork back on his plate and clasping his hands together on the table.

> **Jack:** Okay, can we talk about the elephant in the room?

> **Eric:** … Shawn’s impending fatherhood and the nightmares it’s giving me?

> **Jack:** This is weird. Right? This, what we’re doing right now. It feels weird. It’s weird.

Well, that’s exactly what you want to hear on your first date with the guy you’ve been pining after for over a year. Eric clears his throat, absorbing the blunt comment. He takes a long sip of his wine to avoid having to speak, but Jack isn’t done anyway. Thankfully, there’s more to it.

> **Jack:** Not… this, to be clear. Not the idea of you and me.

> **Eric:** Oh.

> **Jack:** I just mean…  _ this_. The fancy dinner, the small talk. Since when do we engage in small talk, Eric? We’ve got plenty to discuss rather than wasting our precious words on small talk.

> **Eric:** Mm, no doubt about that…

> **Jack:** This just isn’t who we are. You and I, we’re past this. This is the kind of stuff you do when you’re getting to know someone, trying to figure them out. We know each other, we’ve figured each other out. Whatever we are, we’re past all this.

By acknowledging that fact, the stiffness dissipates. Eric lets out a sigh, which becomes a laugh, nodding along to Jack’s assessment. He agrees, but takes the moment to point out if that’s the case, then what they need to do is decide _what_ they are. Jack agreed to go on this date with him, so clearly it’s not all that up in the air.

> **Eric:** I know it’s not simple. It was never going to be. We’ve got the school, our careers. We’re not young and whimsical anymore.

> **Jack:** Well, I don’t know if I’d deny you whimsy…

> **Eric:** There’s a lot going on with the school board, and I’ve got Isadora. You’ve got Lucas. It was never going to be some effortless, picture perfect development. But I think we’ve got to define this, whatever it is. For ourselves, at least.

Jack still seems hesitant, but he nods. Eric tries to lay it out plainly, with a bit of a challenge, as spirit has never failed them.

> **Eric:** I like you, Jack. I know the Eric of years past is rolling over in his anti-administrator grave --

> **Jack:** _ [ with a bashful laugh ]  _ Oh, please…

> **Eric:** But I do. More than a co-worker, more than a friend. Both those things, but more. Is that the way you feel, too? And if so, then where do we go from here?

Jack pauses, examining his counselor closely. Still cautious, seemingly carrying the same innate hesitancy to be vulnerable, truly vulnerable, that he is trying to get his mentee to unlearn.

> **Jack:** I feel very strongly about you, too. More than a co-worker. More than a friend.

> _ [ Eric can’t help but grin, though he tries to remain calm. ] _

> **Jack:** And I don’t know what exactly that means, or what that looks like. We’re in our 40s, I’ve never had a serious relationship like that, and the last girlfriend I had turned out to have no soul.

> **Eric:** Everybody makes mistakes…

> **Jack:** The point is, I know how much you mean to me. I know how important you are to my life. If I had to put a label on it, it would be the same thing I told you at the beginning of the year.  _ [ a beat ] _ You’re my partner. And whatever that means, now that it’s been said, I figure we will figure out as we go. Like everything else.

Finally, finally, some clarity. Eric nods, clearly grateful to hear it. Gently, he reaches across the table and takes Jack’s hand, linking them together in the middle of the table. They lock eyes, tentative, almost youthfully nervous, but soft with dedication.

> **Eric:** Partners.

Jack mirrors his smile, glancing down at their intertwined hands.

**INT. CHUBBIES - NIGHT**

All things considered, Chubbies is running a pretty quiet night as well given that a good chunk of their usual evening crowd is out partying. Lucas finishes up bussing a table, taking his time since there’s no rush.

Well, not to him. Missy walks through the door and surveys the diner, raising her eyebrows when she spots him over in the far corner. She meanders her way over to the counter and leans against it, simply watching him work for a few long moments. Then, she asserts her dominance as a paying customer, pointedly ringing the bell on the counter and clearing her throat.

Lucas straightens up hastily, guilty for neglecting a patron -- until he sees who it is. He scowls as he heads back towards the counter.

> **Lucas:** Look what the bourgeoisie blew in.

> **Missy:** Wow, big word. Did you learn that on the campaign trail, or in the socialist poverty camps you must frequent?

Lucas rolls his eyes, asking if there’s a reason she rolled up again when she spent her last visit decrying the diner’s very existence. Unfortunately, she claims, that greasy charm won out again -- only this time, she must admit, it was _her_ lowly cravings guiding their family takeout menu.

As she passes over her order number and Lucas rifles through the ones they have waiting on the pass through between the front and the kitchen, he comments on the fact that she isn’t at Chai’s little political gathering. Shouldn’t she be out there supporting her favorite candidate?

> **Missy:** I would consider myself more of an independent. Not yet swayed to either option.

> **Lucas:** Goody.

> **Missy:** I’m waiting until I’ve gathered all the insight I need to throw my favor in either direction.

> **Lucas:** Except when you’re throwing around “hapless campaign” donations.

> **Missy:** Well, that’s considered charity. And the wise move of a well-endowed constituent. Can make for… lustrous deals later on, depending on how the cards play out. Suffice to say, I am still open to persuasion.

Lots going on there, but Lucas basically tuned out in disgust after the word “charity.” He drops her order on the counter, shoving it over to her along with the receipt. Same routine as before.

> **Lucas:** Thank you for your business. Don’t drop your entire purse on the way out again.

> **Missy, intrigued:** Is that something you’d be opposed to?

Lucas glowers at her, but he doesn’t answer. He can’t, because it’s hard to convincingly lie about something that hits so close to home right now. Missy tilts her head at him, offering a teasing -- and slightly condescending -- smile.

> **Missy:** It’s okay to want things, you know. Especially when you can’t get them for yourself…

She pulls a few bills from her purse and lays them down on the receipt, courtesy tip just like any other patron would. Then she offers an airy wave as she gathers her family’s order and heads out, meeting her family chauffeur at the door as he holds it open for her.

Lucas remains aloof until she’s gone, and then he quickly scrambles to pick up her receipt. Just like last time, she’s left a pretty sizable tip -- not as large as the first one, because where’s the fun in that, but just enough to make it exciting.

Though he still seems torn about it, Lucas stuffs the tip into his apron pocket as the thumping bass kicks in…

* * *

**INT. FRESCO ESTATE - MAIN FLOOR - NIGHT**

**Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Shots” as performed by LMFAO || Instrumental**

If Chai’s political party was considered a snooze earlier in the night, that is no longer a concern. The mood has shifted from cordial congregation to full-on rager, the alcohol having done its job. The AAA students are no longer thoughtful constituents but brazen, loud, wild teens, scream-singing along to the ridiculous party banger, jumping and dancing around.

The lights have gone down, true colors are coming out, and it’s going to be a bumpy night.

A majority of the song is dedicated to setting the scene, showing how much the party has devolved -- or improved, depending on your priorities. The A class are grooving around together, seemingly having a great time across the board. Dave is carrying Yogi around on his shoulders, who is shirtless. Charlie, Haley, and Clarissa knock back a shot at the same time, all looking more loose and more disheveled than when the evening started. When Dylan and Asher aren’t dancing around with Riley, they’re probably making out in the background.

The only one _clearly_ not having a good time is Chai. She’s doing the classic routine of heroine-overrun-by-chaos, attempting to keep her home from being destroyed by her drunk classmates. She’s pulling vases out of people’s hands, shouting for others to get off the furniture. This is obviously not how she planned for this evening to go.

And at the center of all the chaos, there’s Maya Hart. She’s pleasantly buzzed, but still sober enough to enjoy the harvest of her destruction. Mission accomplished. She meets Chai’s eyes across the room, queen bitch smirk widening as she raises her solo cup. Cheers, bitch!

Fuck that. Chai scowls, then rushes off to diffuse another drunken disaster.

* * *

She’s not the only one operating on a short fuse. Alcohol has that magical power of lowering inhibitions, and with it, depleting emotional bandwidth. So when Zay has another snide comment to make about rehearsal, or working his ass off, or his coveted _Off-Broadway_ audition run, Yindra has finally had enough. She snaps about how he is literally the most one-note person in the state of New York right now.

> **Zay:** I’m sorry, do you have a problem, Yindra?

> **Yindra:** Yeah, Zay, I do. I’ve had a  _ problem _ since we rolled back up to Triple A and you have done nothing but bitch, brag, and blow us off.

> **Nigel:** _ [ slowly, because alcohol ] _ Okay… wait a minute, guys…

> **Zay:** Are we still on this?

> **Yindra:** Yes, we’re still on this. Because you haven’t changed shit! Nigel and I keep giving you leeway --

> **Nigel:** Whoa, okay, don’t know about dropping my name in there --

> **Yindra:** And waiting for you to go back to normal, like back to the Zay we became best friends with. Because you’ve been acting  _ way _ too much like Maya and Farkle lately, like a real actual diva bitch, and I don’t fuck with that.

> **Zay:** I’m sorry me giving a damn about my future is so fucking inconvenient for you. Just because I don’t wanna just throw everything into one basket and go all-or-nothing in L.A. rather than actually  _ trying _ \--

> **Yindra:** Oh, I know. “Wah wah, I’m Isaiah Kaleab Babineaux, no one on Earth has  _ ever _ worked as hard as me! I’m trying so much harder than anyone else!”

> **Zay:** Oh, fuck off, Yin --

> **Yindra:** “When I actually don’t have the right to determine what anyone else is or isn’t doing since I’m so  _ damn _ self-obsessed I don’t spend any time with anyone but me and my own damn ego!”

> **Nigel:** Guys, I really think we should --

> **Yindra/Zay:** Oh, shut up, Nigel!

Both of them kindly tell him that he should just stick to focusing on his dead-end crush with Jade that is clearly going nowhere since he doesn’t have the balls to do anything about it. Nigel frowns, offended and hurt, but also evidently a bit lost just by virtue of intoxication. Either way, Yindra turns it back to Zay, nailing the point home.

> **Yindra:** All the sudden you’re fucking Narcissus, like Maya Hart’s evil twin. And you’ve never been like that. So why are you playing like that now? And when does it stop, so I know when to jump back on the train? Because right now, I’m ready to hop the fuck off.

Zay stares her down, obviously searching for the right retort that will prove she’s wrong. She’s got it all wrong, and he’s not in the wrong. But all that’s in his brain is liquor, and so he comes up embarrassingly short. He huffs, pushing past her.

> **Zay:** I’m getting some air.

> **Yindra:** Yeah, whatever, you do that, Zay. Jesus Christ…

Yindra looks to Nigel, shaking her head. He still seems a few paces behind, processing the dig about Jade. Yindra waves him off, knocking back the rest of her drink.

> **Yindra:** I’m gonna go find someone from B class to make out with.

As Zay pushes through the party and out onto the backyard, Charlie spots him from where he’s dancing with Haley and Clarissa. His expression is thoughtful, if slightly dazed from the alcohol.

However cranky Isadora was earlier in the night, the alcohol has only made it worse. She exits the kitchen with a refilled drink and searches the crowd for familiar faces, marching over to where Nate is attempting to slut drop with Dave and Jeff cheering him on.

> **Isadora, bluntly:** You look ridiculous. 

> **Nate:** Hello to you, too, Smackle.

Nate straightens back up, still grinning but taking on a more defensive stance. There’s an odd tension between two of the strongest personalities in the techies. Dave remains blissfully unaware, while Jeff glances between them.

> **Jeff:** Looking sharp tonight, Dora. New clothes?

> **Isadora:** Oh, yeah. Farkle and Dylan took me shopping.

> **Nate:** That’s right, you’re rich now! Money, money, money.  _ [ a beat ]  _ Must be nice. Shame you’ve stopped performing, since now you’ve got enough coin to buy whatever opportunities you want.

> **Jeff:** C’mon now…

> **Nate:** Hey, man, am I wrong? We know the performers act like they’re Rockefellers. Farkle is like the Bezos of Adams.

> **Isadora:** _ [ scoffs ]  _ You’re such a dick, Martinez.

Oop. Okay. It’s not like that’s never been said before, but Isadora says it with just enough bite that it doesn’t feel like a joke. She and Nate stare each other down, daring the other to make an attack. Jeff looks about ready to bolt out of there, but Dave is just confused. 

> **Dave:** Are you performing again, Isa? I thought you were a techie now. Again.

> **Nate:** Well, can never be too sure with Isadora, can we? She flip-flops so often, it’s hard to keep up.

It was bait to make Isadora snap, and it worked. She lets out a humorless laugh.

> **Isadora:** Nothing will ever be enough for you, will it? No matter what I do, there’ll always be something that keeps me on the outside. “Once a tech, always a tech?” Please.

> **Nate:** Oh, wah, wah --

> **Jeff:** I dunno if --

> **Isadora:** No, shut it for a sec! Every mistake I’ve ever made is fucking branded on me forever. Marking me as a  _ traitor_. Because that’s what I am to you guys, right?  _ [ throwing her arms out ] _ I betrayed you. I know I did, and I’m sorry for it. But God, how many times do I have to say I’m sorry? I’m trying to be part of the team again. I’m really trying. But I can’t  _ do _ that if you keep crucifying me for every little thing I do!

The three boys are stunned into silence, at a complete loss for words. Isadora lets her words rest for a beat, looking between the three of them, before spinning on her heel and marching away, taking a swig of her drink as she does.

> **Dave:** So… is she a techie? Or...

**INT. CHUBBIES - NIGHT**

At Chubbies, Lucas’s evening has gone from a slow night to a downright ghost town. He’s resorted to doodling on cash register paper, just polishing off an artistic rendition of Quincy High being converged upon by alligators (hungry alligators, with an affinity for high school coaches, as the speech bubble of one reptile proclaims) when his cell phone rings.

He checks over his shoulder to make sure the manager isn’t around before going to answer it. Based on his expression, the name on the caller ID is bewildering and slightly annoying.

> **Lucas:** Minkus? Why are you calling me at work?

**INT. FRESCO ESTATE - MAIN FLOOR - NIGHT**

Farkle is indeed calling him, having found a small corner to duck into that is somewhat quiet enough to take a call. He’s perfectly sober amidst the chaos, unable to drink due to his meds. And now he’s calling for back-up.

> **Farkle:** Sorry, I didn’t realize that was a capital crime. I guess you would know better than me.

> **Lucas:** Okay, hanging up in 3, 2 --

> **Farkle:** Wait! Sorry, sorry. Sarcasm disengaged.  _ [ somewhat sarcastically ]  _ I did not mean to interrupt your very important work at Chubbies.

**INT. CHUBBIES - NIGHT**

Lucas shrugs his shoulders, surrounded by the uncharacteristic hush of the diner. He makes a tiny addition to his Quincy artwork.

> **Lucas:** You should be. I’m incredibly busy. What do you want?

Farkle asks if it would be possible for Lucas to come by Chai’s party. When Lucas immediately starts to refuse, Farkle implores him, stating that things have gotten… a little out of control. And by a little, he means completely.

Lucas scowls, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. For the love of…

**EXT. FRESCO ESTATE - PATIO - NIGHT**

If Farkle thinks things are out of control now, he’s got another thing coming. But while the party is in full swing inside, it’s actually somewhat calm out on the back patio. Chai’s estate is just as grand in her backyard as it is indoors, a stylishly furnished patio surrounding a large private pool that looks like it’s been misplaced from Southern California. Zay is walking along the edge of it, steadying his breathing, the cyan glow of the pool shading his face blue.

Any peace he might have found is guaranteed to be blown away the moment Charlie emerges onto the porch. He hangs back for a second, watching Zay and internally debating if he actually wants to do this, but then he steps out into the night. Apparently, according to his intoxicated mind, talking to Zay is a very good idea.

> **Charlie:** Pretty quiet out here.

Zay jumps, looking over his shoulder at him. It takes him a second to register that it’s Charlie, that it’s actually his voice speaking to him -- then he frowns, turning away again.

> **Zay:** Well, it was.

Charlie isn’t mentally sharp enough to recognize that’s a dig at him, but he can tell it’s difficult to continue the conversation. He struggles for something to say, instinctively wanting to talk to Zay, but not knowing what that conversation should be.

> **Charlie:** Crazy big place, right? I didn’t realize Chai was so rich. I mean, I know I’ve got money, but --

> **Zay:** What are you doing here, Charlie?

Suddenly, Zay is facing him again. He’s giving him his attention, meeting his eyes, but it’s not the welcoming experience Charlie was hoping for. Zay is on the defense, guarded, and even more blunt than usual thanks to the alcohol.

> **Charlie:** … I saw you walk away from Yindra. Things didn’t seem… you didn’t look great. I guess I just thought --

> **Zay:** Oh, so  _ now _ you’re talking to me?

> **Charlie, stunned:** … no. I mean -- I didn’t mean no. I --

> **Zay:** Got it. So we’re not talking right now. Crystal clear. But that’s not what I was asking. I meant what are you doing  _ here_?

> **Charlie:** Here?

> **Zay:** At this party. This is a campaign event for Adams elections. You’re not part of Adams anymore.  _ [ a beat ]  _ You made that crystal clear, too.

Charlie blinks, then screws his eyes shut, trying to get his brain to work. Trying to keep up with how quickly this conversation is moving, when moments ago he couldn’t fathom how to get it going at all. Zay glares at him, torn between stuffing everything down like usual and letting out everything that he wants to say. And boy, does he have a _lot_ he wants to say to Charlie.

> **Charlie:** Riley thought it would be a good idea.

> **Zay:** Of course she did.

> **Charlie:** And I wanted to. The A class… you guys are still my friends.

> **Zay:** Are they? Because all  _ I’ve _ heard is people talk about how you’re a fucking ghost. You know that to have friends, you have to  _ keep _ them, right? Like, show up and make an effort? I mean, maybe you don’t, because you were never an expert at making friends --

_Woof_. Ouch. Charlie takes the hit, wincing, but trying to push past it. This isn’t right. He wanted to talk to Zay, but he didn’t want to talk like this.

> **Charlie:** That’s not… I don’t want to talk about this.

> **Zay:** Thought we weren’t talking.

> **Charlie:** I’m not trying to…  _ [ caught on an earlier moment ] _ I didn’t  _ want _ to lose my friends. The A class was my family. I care about them, it’s not like I wanted to leave everything behind.

> **Zay:** But you did! That’s like all you do! I know you have problems with decisions, but you sure made that one quick and easy. If you didn’t  _ want _ to dip, then you shouldn’t have fucking  _ chose _ to do it --

Charlie snaps, unable to hold back his emotion. And suddenly it’s a lot of emotion, as it always seems to be around Zay. He can’t tamp down Zay’s intensity, so he rises to match it.

> **Charlie:** I made that choice because of you! _ [ voice cracking ] _ I left because the way we were, we couldn’t -- we couldn’t both be there. It was headed for disaster --

> **Zay:** And this is so much better --

> **Charlie:** I didn’t want it to explode. I didn’t want everything to fall apart! I didn’t -- I couldn’t let you… you needed it. I wasn’t going to be the thing that -- I did it for  _ you _ \--

> **Zay:** But I didn’t  _ ask _ you to do that, Charlie! That was  _ never _ going to be my choice! You’re saying it’s about me, it’s about  _ us_, but  _ you _ fucked off and did it without me! Just like Kossal night, just like after Farkle’s attempt --

> **Charlie, shaky:** _ [ shaking his head ]  _ No --

> **Zay:** You made your choice, and you made it without me. I never got a say. And you didn’t even bother to  _ tell _ me, you just did it because you decided it was best. Because you’ve got this insatiable need to self-sacrifice, like a fucking masochist, this insane, twisted desire to be a martyr so that everyone else can be better for it. Hate to break it to you, Charlie, but you’re not Jesus fucking Christ! And I’m not subscribing to your noble romanticized bullshit. You did it for me? Bullshit.  _ Bullshit_. Whatever you did, you did it for you. And you can fucking keep it.

Charlie stares at him, eyes glossy with tears. So much left to say, ways he could challenge him, words he could offer to turn down the temperature and try to rebuild. Whatever he wants, it all remains unsaid. Charlie only manages one last wounded declaration.

> **Charlie:** Screw you, Zay.

> **Zay:** Don’t you remember? _ [ holding out his arms ]  _ You already did.

Well, that went perfectly. Charlie starts to respond, then swallows it, whipping around and storming back into the house. Zay watches him go, remaining barbed and steely until Charlie is out of sight. Then, his strong demeanor crumbles, lips trembling as he shakes his head and turns away from where he left.

**INT. FRESCO ESTATE - MAIN FLOOR - NIGHT**

Charlie pushes back into the party, suddenly overwhelmed by the chaos and noise. There’s nothing to be reveling about right now, absolutely nothing. He shoves his way through the crowd in an attempt to escape, a bit unsteady as he goes.

He bumps right into Riley, who greets him cheerfully. But all it takes is one look at his face to realize something terrible happened, and her whole mood flips in an instant.

> **Riley:** What happened? Are you okay?

> **Charlie:** Nothing. I’m fine. I’m going home.

> **Riley:** What?

Charlie starts to move past her. She takes his arm but he yanks away from her, still intent on his grand exit. Riley tries to chase after him.

> **Riley:** Charlie, wait! You’re not in the right -- how are you getting home?

> **Charlie, unhelpfully:** I’m going home.

> **Riley:** You’re drunk!

But he’s out of her reach. Riley shouts after him again, panicked, when Farkle rushes over to join her. She struggles to articulate what’s wrong, also tripping over the fact that she’s sure Zay must not be okay either. Farkle doesn’t bother to question how those two things correlate -- since he already knows -- assuring Riley that he’ll go after Charlie. She nods gratefully, hurriedly explaining that she’ll go find Zay.

Charlie has made it to the doorway, ramming right into Lucas as he arrives. They stare at each other for a second, Charlie frowning and darting out past him without apologizing. That’s the first indicator that things aren’t normal, Lucas staring after him in disbelief. Typically, Charlie apologizes for breathing.

Farkle appears seconds later, exhaling in relief when he sees Lucas. He doesn’t offer further explanation.

> **Farkle:** Thank God, you’re here.

> **Lucas:** Yeah, what the --

> **Farkle:** I have to go chase down the Catholic alcoholic. Talk later. Maybe. Shit.

He leaps out the door after Charlie, leaving Lucas just as confused as when he called. Cautiously, Lucas starts to make his way into the fray, obviously disturbed by the unruly affair. It’s his classmates, but not his classmates, all of them inhabiting some alternate reality fueled by substance that he can’t comprehend.

Thankfully, the first person he actually runs into is a friendly face. Dylan finds him and reacts with glee that he’s there, giving him a tight, affectionate embrace.

> **Dylan:** I thought you weren’t coming! It’s so great you’re here! You’re hereee!

> **Lucas:** Dylan, what the fuck is this? I thought you said this wasn’t a party. You said it was a snooze!

Dylan frowns at him, confused for a moment, before he starts giggling. Then he’s laughing hysterically, much to Lucas’s bewilderment.

> **Dylan:** “Snooze.” Ha ha ha! Isn’t that such a funny word?

> **Lucas:** _ [ with dread as it dawns on him ] _ … are you drunk?

> **Dylan:** Snooze. Snooooooze. Ha ha ha! Oh my God… Lucas, you’re so funny. I love you. You really are the best.

Before Lucas can get anything else out of him, Asher joins them, colliding with Dylan from behind and half-hugging him as both of them laugh. He doesn’t even notice Lucas at first, excitedly tugging Dylan towards him to whisper something in his ear.

> **Dylan:** Seriously?

> **Asher, punchy:** Yeah, yeah. Hee hee. I found --  _ [ whispering in his ear again ]  _ I found a place, come on --

He starts pulling Dylan in a different direction, and only then does he recognize there’s someone else in the conversation. Lucas stares at Asher in horror, never having seen his fastidious, control freak best friend in this kind of state. It almost seems impossible.

> **Lucas:** _ Asher_?

> **Asher:** Oh, Lucas! Hi.  _ [ in a half-assed imitation of his usual composure ]  _ You’ll have to -- hee hee -- you’ll have to excuse us. We’ve got some --

> **Dylan:** Ha ha ha --

> **Asher:** We’ve got some very serious business to attend to. _ [ dragging Dylan away ] _ Ha ha, we’ll catch you later!

Dylan lets Asher pull him deeper into the party, giving Lucas a mischievous salute before rushing to keep up with his boyfriend. Lucas stares after them, mortified.

**EXT. FRESCO ESTATE - DRIVEWAY - NIGHT**

Charlie has made it halfway down the spacious driveway, but he’s clearly in no state to be walking around by himself. It’s a relief when Farkle manages to catch up to him, out of breath and insisting that Charlie slow down.

> **Farkle:** Hold on, just take a second --

> **Charlie:** I’m going home.

> **Farkle:** I know, I know. We’ll get you there. I’m just making sure you’re okay.

> **Charlie, in tears:** I’m fine.

> **Farkle:** Let me help you, I can give you a ride --

> **Charlie, indignant:** I can take care of myself!

Then Charlie freezes, nearly stumbling. Farkle takes his arm to steady him, just in time for Charlie to lean over and vomit on his shoes. Farkle grimaces, looking up at the sky.

> **Farkle, to God:** Thank you for that.

**EXT. FRESCO ESTATE - PATIO - NIGHT**

Riley finds Zay where Charlie left him, ruminating on his sour mood by yanking the leaves off the plants around the pool and chucking them into the water. She asks him what the hell happened, considering she just saw Charlie rush out in a mess.

> **Zay:** _ [ scoffing ] _ Yeah, of course that’s what you care about.

> **Riley:** What?

> **Zay:** Gotta make sure Charlie is okay. That’s all that really matters.  _ [ bitterly ]  _ It’s no mystery which side you’re on.

Riley pauses, affronted. She’s been walking a careful balance all year -- and well, for most of her life -- and with that comment and under the influence, she loses her cool.

> **Riley:** Okay, I don’t know how much you drank or what pity party you’re having, but that’s stupid. You know I’m not  _ picking _ sides.  _ You _ were the one who said you weren’t going to make this My Parents 2.0, only now you’re sounding a lot like my mom throwing a tantrum when she didn’t get full custody.

> **Zay, guilty:** Whatever, man. I didn’t mean it like that.

> **Riley:** How am I supposed to know that, Zay? I have no idea what you mean and don’t these days.

> **Zay:** What’s that supposed to mean?

> **Riley:** It means I have no idea who you are anymore! I thought  _ West Side Story _ was supposed to be good for you. You worked hard for it, and you deserved it, we all know you did. But it’s like you went through some awful metamorphosis and became an entirely different person.

> **Zay:** Oh, not you too --

> **Riley:** God, don’t you think that should be your first sign? If more than one person is telling you this? Or are you really that allergic to criticism?

> **Zay:** I’m -- this is so --

> **Riley:** You didn’t used to be. You have always been talented, driven, but down to Earth, too.  _ Nice_. Now it’s like you’re so obsessed with… whatever, your future or being the best and everything else is gone. 

> **Zay:** What, so I can’t be ambitious? Maya and Farkle do this shit all the time, and no one ever jumps down their throat -- except me, and I’m sick of it. It’s such a fucking double-standard.

> **Riley:** That’s not what we’re --

> **Zay:** I’m sorry that I want to be something! That I have to work my ass off to do it! I don’t know when that suddenly became such an offense. Should I just give up, is that what you all want?

They’re starting to attract attention, other partygoers congregating by the windows. They can’t hear them, but the spectacle is enough. Riley and Zay, _fighting_? That’s the last two people expected to see throwing down.

> **Riley:** No one is saying that! I’m asking if everything you’re doing in service of all that is worth it. All this shit you never did before. Like, blowing off your friends? Isolating yourself? Breaking promises? That’s not who gave me a place to feel safe when I first showed up at Triple A. And to be honest, I’m not sure I want to be friends with whoever this diva bitch is now.

> **Zay:** Okay, well --

> **Riley:** I’m sorry that things are so hard, Zay. I’m sorry that you have to work so hard, that you feel like you have to throw everyone else under the bus! I’m sorry that Charlie broke your heart!

Zay winces at that, trying and failing to keep his steely composure. Chai steps out onto the patio, sensing trouble and marching over to keep anything from getting worse. As if she broke the dam, the rest of the guests start to flood out after her to catch the end of the confrontation.

> **Riley:** But I’m done being treated like an afterthought to your ambition. If you want to write me off as a hater, fine. If you want to act like I’m taking his side, I’m sorry, I can’t stop you. But as long as Diva Zay is captaining this ship, I’m done with it.

Zay absorbs this, looking at her with nothing to say. As defensive as he feels, deep down, he knows she might be right. And it’s hard to hear it from Riley, who only snaps when she’s been pushed to the limit.

Chai reaches them, attempting to talk them down and break things up. She takes both their arms and tries to pull them away from the pool’s edge, Zay shrugging away from her and telling her to leave him alone. She persists and Riley snaps at both of them, instructing Chai to back off but warning Zay that he should listen to their hostess. She tries to reach for Zay and he dodges, landing wrong on his foot and stumbling on the edge of the pool.

Then he loses his balance, falling backwards into the water and taking Chai with him.

The crowd reacts accordingly, hollering in a mix of shock and amusement as their pseudo-celebrity and the presidential candidate submerge under the water. Riley gasps, bringing her hands up to cover her mouth. Lucas manages to get through the crowd and catch the tail-end of the drama, jaw dropping open.

Zay and Chai both resurface and gasp for breath, soaked and stunned silent. Chai’s teeth chatter as she looks at all her guests gaping at her from above, witness to her unplanned swim.

Nailed it. Don’t forget to vote for Chai…

_**Break 2.** _

**EXT. GARDNER HOME - NIGHT**

The Minkus family car drops off Charlie at his doorstep, Farkle insisting on walking him to the stoop. Charlie doesn’t wait up for him, about to stumble right back into his house without precaution, but Farkle catches up and pulls him back from the door.

> **Farkle:** Easy there, Aphro-Hermes. You seriously want to go waltzing back into your house like that? You think you maybe want to take a minute to make sure you’ve sobered up first?

Good point, Farkle. Charlie pauses, then nods amicably, backing off from his stoop. The two of them stand there in the walkway, Charlie avoiding his gaze until he manages to meet his eyes. His face is flushed -- evidently from crying in the car -- but he’s steadied considerably on the drive back to the East Side. Now, he’s basically just tipsy, and his expression is a perfect rendition of sad puppy dog.

> **Charlie:** Sorry about your shoes.

> **Farkle:** Chuck, I’m one of the wealthiest teens in Manhattan. I’ve got plenty of shoes.

Charlie nods again. Farkle searches for what to say -- he’s never been the poster child for healthy coping and effective communication.

> **Farkle:** You okay? I mean, aside from…  _ [ gestures to him ]  _ Are you going to be okay?

> **Charlie:** Yeah, yeah. I will. It’s just… no, yeah.  _ [ with a deep breath ] _ I’m okay. Everything is going to be fine.

It’s not the most compelling delivery, but better than despair. Farkle nods, awkwardly reaffirming the statement.

> **Charlie:** Thanks for the ride. Especially after... your shoes.

> **Farkle:** It was nothing.

> **Charlie:** Still, thanks. You’re a good friend, Farkle. Crazy, but… good. A good friend. A good… good friend…

As he talks, Charlie reaches up to pat Farkle on the shoulder… then, his face. It starts as an affectionate cheek pat and then turns into like… a half-smother, Farkle blinking and letting it happen as Charlie puts his hand in his face. Evidently still not quite sober. Farkle takes Charlie’s wrist and gently places it back at his side, freeing himself.

> **Farkle:** I’m sure Riley will text you tomorrow to make sure you’re alive. Stay strong, Chuck. I’ll see you later.

Charlie waves blankly as Farkle jogs back down the walkway towards his ride. Once he’s gone, Charlie drops down to sit on his front stoop. He presses his palms to his eyes, trying to pull himself into something presentable as Farkle advised.

But it’s easier said than done, after everything that happened tonight. He releases a sigh as he lifts his head, staring up at the stars before lowering his gaze to his hands in his lap.

He said he was going home, but he can’t go home. Not really.

* * *

**Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Unsaid” as performed by Ruel || Performed by Charlie Gardner**

Charlie quietly starts the emotional pop ballad, shaky a capella for the first verse. Finally starting to process what happened, what was said, and all the things he _didn’t_ say. While the first lines are obviously directed towards Zay, from there it becomes less about him. The performance is less an admonishment of his ex-lover but Charlie himself, a critical self-referendum on all the choices he’s been making.

_How we gonna act like nothing's wrong?_

_I see that you've been crying, but you never wanna talk about it_

Despite his varying level of intoxication, it has no impediment on his ability to give a compelling performance. Charlie’s rendition is raw, stirring, even as he’s confined to pacing the stretch of his front porch. The limited movement and spectacle only magnifies the strength of feeling, how much Charlie is grappling with and battling against and stuffing deep down where no one can see and hear it.

_All these words left unsaid..._

As he wraps up, Charlie stands in front of his door and lets out a long, grounding breath. Then he turns and steps back into the house.

* * *

**INT. GARDNER HOME - ENTRYWAY - NIGHT**

It’s a good thing he composed himself as suggested, because most of his family -- AMBROSE GARDNER, ROSIE GARDNER, and ELEANOR GARDNER -- is waiting up when he walks through the door. They eye him as he steps inside and promptly trips over a pair of shoes strewn by the doorway, lightly muttering a curse to himself that thankfully, they can’t hear.

He straightens up with wide eyes when Eleanor addresses him, rising from her chair in the living room and asking where he’s been. Is he aware he’s thirty minutes late for curfew? With no call or text to let them know or check in? Charlie blinks at her, all of this going right over his head. Rosie scrutinizes him from the couch, obviously more in tune to his unusual behavior than either of his parents.

> **Charlie:** Um…

> **Eleanor:** This is unacceptable. Especially from you -- you’ve never given us trouble like this before.  _ [ crossing her arms ]  _ I mean, do you have anything to say for yourself?

> **Charlie, boldly:** Actually, yes! Yes, I do.

It’s like watching a car crash in slow motion. Ambrose raises his eyebrows. Rosie stares Charlie down, holding her breath. Eleanor waits expectantly as Charlie clears his throat, standing taller. Like, he’s not… he’s not going to… is he…?

When he locks eyes with his mother, however, it seems like he suddenly remembers where he is. What reality is, how things are when he’s not buzzing with alcohol. He glances at Rosie, then clears his throat again.

> **Charlie:** I… am sorry I forgot about curfew. It was… ir…

> **Eleanor:** Irresponsible?

> **Charlie:** Irresponsible of me. Yes. That’s what I was going to say. I should’ve let you know I was running late, and I accept the consequences of my mistakes.  _ [ with an overly pointed nod ] _ And now, I’m going to… go upstairs and… think hard about what I’ve done. My apologies, family.

He does a little, regretful bow, then carefully maneuvers to the stairs. Eleanor watches him go for only a moment, turning back around to debrief in confusion with her husband. But Rosie keeps an eye on him until he disappears up the stairs, watching nervously as he fumbles his way up the steps as inconspicuous as possible. What in God’s name…

**INT. FRESCO ESTATE - MAIN FLOOR - NIGHT**

After Chai and Zay’s epic dive, the party essentially broke up for the night. Most of the partygoers have dispersed, Lucas hanging back to help make sure everyone leaves. He’s with Dylan and Asher by the front door, doing just that with the two of them. They’re less intoxicated than earlier but clearly still tipsy. It’s the most disheveled Asher has ever publicly appeared, his hair an uncombed mess.

Right now, they’re taking a ride share back to Asher’s, because no way is Lucas letting them drive. He takes Dylan’s keys from him, stating that he’ll drop his jeep by Asher’s after he takes Riley home. Neither of them argue with him on it… but a cheeky comment…

> **Dylan:** Hey, now… don’t steal my car, okay, Lucas? Ha ha.

> **Lucas, unamused:** You literally  _ just _ handed me the keys.

Asher, with his bird bones, is even more tipsy than Dylan. He’s giggly as he picks up on the joke, reaching out and poking Lucas in the arm.

> **Asher:** Yeah, but you’re a  _ troublemaker_. A little vagabond, a ne’er-do-well.

> **Lucas:** Couldn’t the alc take your vocabulary instead of your common sense?

> **Asher:** We can never know with you, can we?  _ [ fond glee ]  _ You’re a mess!

Asher descends into giggles, Dylan grinning as he leans into his side. He throws his arm around his shoulders, Lucas glaring at both them in disgust.

> **Dylan:** Isn’t he funny?

> **Lucas:** No, he’s awful. Drunk Asher is awful. Get him out of here.

The two of them head out, Asher swatting at Lucas’s shoulder playfully as they go until he literally can’t reach him anymore.

> **Asher:** Byeeeee meatball. Ha ha ha!

> **Lucas:** Awful. Heathens…

Lucas moves back into the main area where Chai is still guiding people out and trying to clean up. On the nearest couch, Riley is resting, holding a pillow over her face both out of exhaustion and anguish. Isadora is sitting on one of the tables, ripping up a plastic cup and throwing it in pieces at her feet.

He gathers some trash as he goes, holding it out to drop into the trash bag that Chai is carrying around. She thanks him for hanging back to help, especially considering the purpose of this whole event in the first place. Lucas claims it’s no big deal, he mainly just wants to make sure his friends get home safely.

> **Isadora:** Oh, really? You care about what happens to your  _ friends_? Bet that doesn’t include  _ me_, does it?

> **Lucas:** _ [ rolling his eyes ] _ I forgot you get melodramatic when you’re buzzed.

> **Isadora:** You know, since you  _ hate _ me now and everything. Sorry I have money now, Lucas. Sorry I’m an irredeemable  _ monster_.

> **Lucas, unfazed:** Anyway…

Sensing the tension, Chai offers to take care of Isadora. She’ll make sure she gets home safely. Lucas seems hesitant, still not totally trusting of his opponent, but in that moment she’s sincere.

They reach a tentative temporary truce, Lucas nodding and shifting his focus to his girlfriend. He crouches next to her and helps her sit up, telling her it’s time to go home. Riley lets the pillow fall to the floor, pouting, obviously still riddled with guilt and definitely still tipsy. She takes Lucas’s hands, allowing him to pull her to her feet.

> **Riley:** You don’t think I should -- I should go apologize to Zay. I should say sorry…

> **Lucas:** You’ve already said sorry a hundred times. And you shouldn’t have, because you didn’t do anything wrong.

> **Riley:** He’s gonna hate me forever.  _ Forever _ forever. I… I should go say I’m sorry --

Riley starts to spin around and loses her balance, Lucas wrapping an arm around her waist to keep her upright. He assures her she can apologize tomorrow when she’s able to use her brain. For now, they’ve got to get her home.

As they’re almost out the door, Riley doubles back suddenly, bright with an epiphany.

> **Riley:** Oh, Chai!  _ [ buffering… buffering… ]  _ Thanks for hosting!

Chai manages a thin smile, waving her away as Lucas guides her out the door. Then she releases a heavy sigh, glancing around at the clean-up job she’s got waiting for her. She locks eyes with Isadora, who holds her glare as she pointedly tosses her destroyed cup onto the floor.

**INT. FRESCO ESTATE - BATHROOM - NIGHT**

Zay is seated on the floor by the bathtub, shirtless with a plush towel wrapped around his shoulders. He’s still wearing his drenched pants, obviously uncomfortable. Maya enters the bathroom with another towel, in much better shape mentally and physically than he is.

> **Maya:** Bet you’re sober now, after your little swim.

Zay scowls at her, but accepts the towel to dab at his pants and try to salvage his hair. That’s going to take all weekend to get back in top shape. Now seated across from him, Maya gives him a pat of sympathy on the knee, then pulls back in distaste at how damp it is. Zay lets out a frustrated huff, balling the towel in his lap.

> **Zay:** This is such bullshit. Everyone is getting on my fucking case for doing what I’ve always set out to do, for being ambitious. It’s like, this is what I’m supposed to be doing. Doing the damn thing, following the dream. And they’ve all always said they supported that, I thought they were in my corner. But now everyone is taking shots at me. And for what? I’m just doing what I was meant to do. I don’t fucking get why they all suddenly hate me for it.

> **Maya, gently:** Because you’re not me.

> **Zay:** Okay, cool. Thanks. You really can’t let one moment not be about you, can you?

> **Maya:** _ [ laughing ] _ That’s not what I meant -- but yes, for the record. What I mean is that you’ve never been like me. You and I give each other hell, we’ve got the same goals, and I know you’re just as talented as me.

> **Zay:** Can I get that in writing?

> Maya: But we’ve never had the same approach. For me, the dream is everything, and in some ways that’s my charm. I’m cutthroat and ruthless, and I don’t care about whether people like it or not. I don’t so much  _ care _ about people, period, with rare exception.

> **Zay:** And you were going to run for president…

> **Maya:** But that’s not you. You care about people, you cherish your network. People are drawn to you. You make people feel welcome, you let your talent be a magnet rather than a weapon. You created a certain brand, a kind of community, and my method of ruthless self-interest doesn’t fit that brand. It doesn’t fit you.

Zay frowns, keeping his gaze on the towel. He knows she’s right -- it’s not as if being so consumed by his goals and self-interest has made him very happy. And now, he’s recognizing how much it’s been impacting other people. His most important people.

> **Zay:** To be honest, I feel like I don’t even know what fits me these days.

> **Maya:** Surprisingly, I get what you mean.  _ [ slouching against the tub ] _ When my big sib said all that stuff about changing majors… it really threw me. The idea of doing all this, getting on the perfect path, and then realizing it’s all wrong...  _ [ with a shudder ]  _ Maybe it’s naive to think things will go exactly as planned, no matter how flawless the plan is.

Whatever path he’s on right now, it’s far from the flawless one. Zay sighs, rubbing his eyes and shaking his head. Maya gives him a weak smile, patting his knee again. This time, she doesn’t retract her hand. A nice moment of diva solidarity, rare as they are.

**INT. FRESCO ESTATE - MAIN FLOOR - NIGHT**

Left alone in each other’s company, neither Isadora nor Chai are in the best of moods. Isadora sips from a glass of water and Chai finishes her initial sweep of the room. It’s fair to say that she’ll have more work to do come tomorrow. After leaving a trash bag full of cups in the kitchen, Chai sits down next to Isadora with a long sigh.

> **Chai:** Tonight did not go as planned.

> **Isadora:** _ [ nodding sagely ]  _ It was a shit show.

Despite herself, Chai laughs. She can’t really do anything but find the humor in the situation, considering how terribly it went.

> **Chai:** How are you feeling? Still drunk?

> **Isadora:** _ [ eyes widening ]  _ Don’t tell Eric! He’ll get  _ [ hiccup ]  _ worried.

Chai assures Isadora that she won’t tell Eric. Placated, Isadora finishes her water, while Chai sits in contemplative silence.

> **Chai:** Do you think I have a shot of winning? Like, any at all.

Isadora furrows her brows and strokes an imaginary beard, considering it.

> **Isadora:** I think so, yeah. Lucas’s policies aren’t widely appealing, so as long as you avoid a scandal, you’ve got a good shot. If you’ve got any skeletons in your closet, keep them well hidden. Not to mention he’s such a  _ [ hiccup ]  _ \--

The hiccup spares us the expletive. Chai chews on her lip. She definitely has at least one skeleton... 

> **Chai:** I’m going to tell you something. And I’m only saying it because you’re incredibly drunk and will not remember this. Okay?

Isadora nods seriously, leaning in with keen interest. Chai takes a breath.

> **Chai:** I ran the Confessions page.

> _ [ She waits in anticipation of a reaction, but Isadora stares blankly back at her. ] _

> **Isadora:** The what?

> **Chai:** The... the Confessions page. From sophomore year. On Instagram.

Isadora blinks, then remembers with a long, exaggerated ‘ _ohhh_.’

> **Isadora:** I totally forgot about that. So much has happened since then. _ [ a beat ]  _ I think that’s your problem, you know.

> **Chai:** My problem?

> **Isadora:** You don’t  _ belong _ to the class anymore. You’re like a relic of the past. You missed so much, and it’s obvious. Even Gardner still feels more like our classmate than you, and he has ghosted basically everyone pre-tonight. Last year really trauma bonded us.  _ [ a beat ] _ In part because of you, I guess. Weird. You probably shouldn’t tell anyone else that.

Chai considers this with a frown. It wasn’t what she expected to hear in response to her reveal, but it’s certainly something to consider going forward. 

> **Isadora:** Since you told me your secret, I’ll tell you one of mine.

Isadora rests a hand on Chai’s shoulder, leaning in further to look into her eyes.

> **Isadora, whispered:** I’m afraid being rich will turn me into a bitch.

> **Chai:** You’re... already a bitch. No offense or anything.

> **Isadora:** _ [ considering that ] _ True. True, true. But I’m a bitch like... like a badass boss. I don’t want to be a bitch like Missy or... all those fucking entitled people who think they own the world. Who don’t give a shit ‘bout anybody else.

> **Chai:** They’re not like that just because of money, though. It’s the way they were raised, their experiences. You don’t get money and instantly turn into an awful person.  _ [ a beat ]  _ Like, you’re a bitch because you need to make your voice heard, right? You need to keep control, and make sure people listen to your wants and needs.

Isadora is stunned at how perceptive Chai is -- especially considering how long she was away.

> **Chai:** Well, I created the Confessions page to feel less invisible. All my parents cared about was their divorce, and nobody paid attention to me at school. Not with competition like Maya and Farkle -- though I gotta say, Farkle has really mellowed. Is he like, okay?

> **Isadora:** Mm. It’s the meds. That’s what happens when you try to kill yourself.

Chai stares at her. Since she’s drunk, it’s hard to tell if she’s joking or not. She’s heard a few comments like that since she got back, including from Farkle himself, but she didn’t think they were serious... she really is out of the loop. She makes a mental note to follow up on all this once this crisis is averted.

> **Chai:** Anyway… the page was a way for me to feel like I had control. Like I mattered, or had any impact on the people around me. Was that a bitch move? For sure. But I wasn’t being a bitch  _ because _ of my money, there was so much more going on. You know?

> **Isadora:** … I think I get it. I --

Before she can finish whatever she was going to say, Isadora leans down and vomits onto the rug. Chai holds her hair back for her with a cringe.

> **Chai:** We should get you home.

**INT. JACK’S APARTMENT COMPLEX - NIGHT**

Eric and Jack are laughing as they finish their walk up to Jack’s apartment, stopping outside his door. Jack thanks Eric for dinner -- and driving -- to which Eric reminds him he’d do it any time. Then they settle into a plaintive quiet, ready to call it a night but also not ready to say goodbye.

> **Eric:** So… if we’re partners now…

> **Jack:** Mhm…

> **Eric:** Does that…  _ [ clearing his throat ]  _ does that include… you know, would that give us the wherewithal to…

> **Jack:** Eric.

> **Eric:** Yeah? Yep? Hm?

> **Jack:** Stop talking.

> **Eric:** Okay.

Jack grins, glancing at his lips. Perhaps partners does entail more than they’ve allowed themselves… if that’s something they’d want...

Eric steps closer, an unfamiliar tension in the air, scary but exciting. It’s different to be this close, choosing to be this close. They drift closer together… inches apart… both of them close their eyes…

When Eric’s phone rings. Figures. He apologizes and digs for his phone, but Jack waves him off. When the caller ID shows “Isadora,” Eric grimaces.

> **Eric:** I should really --

> **Jack:** Go on. You know I’d answer it if it were me.

Eric nods, grateful. As soon as Isadora starts talking, he can tell something is off about her, squinting as he listens to her.

> **Eric:** Everything okay?

> **Isadora:** Mm yeah. No doubt.

> **Eric:** No doubt?

> **Isadora:** Yeah. So, just one quick thing. I’m drunk, don’t question it --

> **Eric:** _ What_?

> **Isadora:** And I’m coming back to the apartment. Chai is ordering me a car service, don’t worry or anything. But… why did I call… oh, right. What’s our address?

Eric blankly rattles it off for her, totally baffled. He starts to ask a dozen questions, earning concern from Jack based on his tone. He raises a finger to hold him, still trying to focus on Isadora’s hazy delivery.

> **Isadora:** Okay. Cool beans. I should be home in like… thirty?

> **Eric:** Minutes?

> **Isadora:** Could be. Oh, and Eric, please don’t tell Eric about this. If he knew he’d be so worried.

> **Eric:** Um…

> **Isadora:** Okay. Neato. Thanks, dad.

Isadora hangs up, leaving Eric puzzled. As nice as that impromptu “dad” was, he’s too overwhelmed by everything else she said to appreciate it at the moment. He explains the situation to Jack, hinting at the fact that he should probably get to the apartment fast to meet her when she stumbles back home.

> **Jack:** I totally understand. Wouldn’t expect you to do any differently.

Eric smiles. He starts to leave, then double backs quickly, taking Jack’s hand and giving him a brisk kiss on the knuckles. Testing the waters, trying it on for size. He seems to like it, smiling even brighter.

> **Eric:** Partner.

Then he’s gone, off to play dad. Jack hovers outside his apartment for a moment longer, smiling like a teenager going steady.

**INT. MATTHEWS APARTMENT - MASTER BEDROOM - NIGHT**

Lucas and Riley sneak their way into her room through the window, which is a thousand times harder and more complicated when Riley is tipsy. Well, it’s a challenge for him, whereas Riley finds it all hysterically funny. She’s giggling the entire time, Lucas encouraging her to stay quiet considering if they get caught he’s probably going to be murdered on sight. When he shushes her, she mimics it back to him playfully.

But by the grace of the underworld, they make it safely inside. Lucas gently guides her to sitting on her bed, suggesting she take it easy. She nods along agreeably, humming “mhms,” before tugging him down to sit next to her.

> **Lucas:** Whoa, okay --

> **Riley:** Sorry, I thought you meant easy on me. Not you.

> **Lucas:** Okay, okay. Very funny.

> **Riley:** I think you should get comfortable. Stay a while.

> **Lucas:** I can’t do that. I don’t want you to get in trouble. For many reasons.

> **Riley:** Pfft. Who cares? I could handle a little trouble. We live on the wild side.

> **Lucas:** Ha, don’t get ahead of yourself. We’re still on shoplifting lipstick in your sleeves, you’ve got a long way to go if you wanna claim trouble.

Riley holds his gaze, trying to be stubborn… and then she erupts into giggles. Oh so very funny. But she’s so stinking cute, it’s impossible for Lucas not to mirror her smile. She lets her gaze linger on him, giddiness shifting to something a little more complex. Then she leans forward to kiss him, Lucas managing to dodge it just in time.

> **Lucas, delicately:** Riley… you’re drunk.

> **Riley:** What? No I’m not.

Well, if that’s the case, then she’s just being _extra_ touchy-feely for the hell of it. Which isn’t beyond belief, but it’s more likely the drunk thing. She shakes her head, conveying as much composure as she can muster.

> **Riley:** I’m sober. So incredibly sober. I’m the most sober person there ever was.

> **Lucas:** Right.

> **Riley:** If we had a sober-ness contest, right now, I would be declared the most soberest. And you can take that to the bank, Mister Lucas James Friar.  _ [ leaning closer ]  _ Therefore, I demand my prize of getting to kiss my incredibly beautiful boyfriend.

Tricky situation to navigate… it’s hard to deny Riley when she’s so cute… and he doesn’t want her to get it in her head that he’s _rejecting_ her, no matter how with it she is. It’s not like there’s ever a time he wouldn’t want to kiss her… but he knows he has to hold his ground. He creates a bit of distance between them by taking her shoulder and gently nudging her back, sliding down to take her hand.

> **Lucas:** I regret to inform you that you’ve been disqualified from the sobriety contest.

> **Riley:** Why?

> **Lucas, cheekily:** Because you’re drunk, Riley.

She looks like she’s going to argue him in circles… but then she deflates, raising her hands in surrender. _You got me._ Lucas laughs, then remembers he’s supposed to be quiet.

Riley sighs, examining him longingly. She searches for how to articulate herself, an even more hefty task with the alcohol fogging her brain.

> **Riley:** I just, um…  _ [ swallowing ]  _ I like you so much.

Oh, boy, here we go. Lucas braces himself, willing himself to stay grounded and not get flighty. She continues to find ways to touch him, running her fingers along the front of his shirt and his forearms. Though her words are slightly slurred, it’s clear that she’s speaking from the heart.

> **Riley:** Do you know that? How much I like you. It’s  _ so  _ much. I care about you… so much, and you make me feel like… crazy.  _ [ chuckling, then quickly ]  _ In a good way. Crazy in a good way. I like you, and you make me crazy, and I… want you.  _ So _ much.

> _ [ Lucas clears his throat, cheeks flushed. ] _

> **Riley:** But sometimes it’s hard. Sometimes it just feels like… I don’t know. Like I can’t reach you.  _ [ off his frown ]  _ I know you like me too, don’t get me… don’t worry. I know, even though you… it’s hard for you, sometimes, too. To say things. But I know. That’s not it. It’s just that… it’s like you’re far away. Sometimes. Like you won’t let me in. I want… so badly… to just be…  _ with _ you, to be in it with you… but it’s like I’m still at arms length.

Lucas absorbs this, somber. Riley might be drunk, but if she’s saying all this to him, he knows she means it. He thought he was doing an okay job with the boyfriend thing, given that he has no experience to draw from and absolute shit examples to model after, but if this is how she feels…

Riley can tell he really heard her, because she immediately gets nervous. She tries to play it off, suddenly more like her sober self as she downplays her own feelings.

> **Riley:** _ [ with a laugh ]  _ Sorry, that was… I don’t know why I said all that. So silly, ha ha.

It doesn’t feel very silly. But Lucas respects her wishes and lets it go for now, searching for a way to appease her.

> **Lucas:** I guess I can stay for a bit.

> **Riley:** Yeah?

> **Lucas:** Yeah. But only for a few minutes.

A few minutes is more than enough for her. She beams, moving back towards the pillows and pulling him along with her. They recline comfortably and she rests her head against his chest, Lucas wrapping his arm around her shoulders. She closes her eyes, as if she’ll drift off to sleep just like that.

But Lucas isn’t going to rest. He’s clearly thinking about what she said -- and he’ll be thinking about it for a while.

**INT. FRESCO ESTATE - MAIN FLOOR - NIGHT**

Maya and Zay descend the stairs and find Chai and Isadora by the door, Zay about as dry as he’s going to get. They claim they’re going to walk to the subway and spend the night at Maya’s, now that they’re more sober. If it’s okay, Zay will come back to get his car in the morning.

Obviously, it’s fine. Chai offers to order them a car the same way she is for Isadora, but the two of them insist on walking. The fresh air will be good, and they’ll have each other. The three of them head out, Chai waving them goodbye.

When she shuts the door, she lets out a heavy exhale. She turns around and slouches back against the door, looking forlornly at all the clean-up she still has to do. How did everything become such a mess?

She sets to starting to pick up plastic cups on her own, as the synth piano floats in…

* * *

**INT. MATTHEWS APARTMENT - MASTER BEDROOM - NIGHT**

**Song Cue ♫ ♪ “To Be Young” as performed by Anne-Marie (feat. Doja Cat) || Performed by AAA Seniors**

_[ Lyrics specific to characters -- follow along_ [ _here_](https://docs.google.com/document/d/1tthdbFl4nYNsk4ensnBkO2hXyffQ34Z4czn4Df-N06U/edit?usp=sharing) _! ]_

If there’s a song to follow along with to get a true feel for it, this is the one for the episode. It’s so interwoven and shared amongst the cast, so having the flow of it helps tie things together.

Riley kicks off the ensemble salute to the night they’ve had, now alone in her room. She stares up at her ceiling, wistful as she sings about the immediacy of the future and the looming expectations of the future.

**EXT. GARDNER HOME - CHARLIE’S BALCONY - NIGHT**

On his lines, Charlie sings from where he’s sitting in the corner of his balcony, cradling a water bottle and changed into more comfortable clothes. He’s sporting a crimson version of the Adams sweatshirt, something he hasn’t touched since he transferred.

_Pinky promise things will stay the same,_

_Even when I’m old I’ll know your name..._

**EXT. NEW YORK STREETS - NIGHT**

Zay and Maya stick together as promised, boasting the prettiest backdrop as they walk through the glowing city life of late-night NYC. They dance their way down the street, moving along to the music but also each sort of operating in their own mental bubble.

**INT. RIDE SHARE - MOVING - NIGHT**

Isadora takes her lines from the back of the ride share car, colorful lights of that city life reflecting on her face as she looks out the window. She and Zay split the later rap verse.

**INT. MINKUS HOME - NIGHT**

Farkle contributes his lyrics in the silhouette of his huge wall of windows, cast in that same magical city glow.

**INT. FRESCO ESTATE - MAIN FLOOR - NIGHT**

And Chai offers hers while in the midst of her cleaning, tired and drained from everything that conspired on accident.

**INT. GARCIA HOME - ASHER’S BEDROOM - NIGHT**

On the bridge, Asher gives his lines from the cozy comfort of his bed. Dylan is asleep half-sprawled on top of him, Asher dreamy and content as he holds him close and runs his fingers through his hair absentmindedly.

**EXT. GARDNER HOME - CHARLIE’S BALCONY - NIGHT**

Charlie breaks through the domestic bliss when it jumps back to him, belting out the _“yeah”_ that cuts through the bridge, teeing up the quick cuts that make up the rest of the musical montage.

**INT. FRESCO ESTATE - MAIN FLOOR - NIGHT**

And Chai takes us home with the last declarative _“this is what it feels like to be young,”_ giving up for the night and dropping the trash bag at her feet. She collapses onto the stoop of the fireplace, looking around in an exhausted daze.

* * *

**INT. ERIC’S APARTMENT - DAY**

For all the melodrama that unfolded the night before, the sun rises regardless the next morning. Eric opens the door and lets Farkle inside, having come by to check on Isadora. They had a long night, and she… wasn’t feeling well last night.

> **Eric:** Yeah, “sick.” No idea how she got “sick” so suddenly.

> **Farkle:** … I know, it’s a real mystery. You know, I hear that uh… menstruation can be very, um, complicated --

> **Eric:** I know you were drinking, Farkle. Isadora told me.

> **Farkle:** Oh, thank God. I really didn’t know where I was going with that.

Eric gives him a look, informing him Isadora is in her room. Farkle nods gratefully, hurrying out of sight.

**INT. ERIC’S APARTMENT - ISADORA’S BEDROOM - DAY**

Farkle knocks lightly before entering, questioning if the monster has risen yet. Isadora growls unpleasantly from the depths of her covers. That answers that. Farkle smiles, stepping into the room and dropping the hangover care package he brought her on her desk.

After a bit of back and forth, Isadora grumpily pushes herself into a sitting position as Farkle climbs onto the bed and sits cross-legged at the end. She glowers at him, hair in a messy, half-falling out ponytail.

> **Isadora:** You are so lucky you don’t have to deal with this right now.

> **Farkle:** Ah, yes, that’s me. Lucky, lucky, lucky. You know what my secret is? Clinical depression and psychotropic drugs.

Ha ha, so clever… and yet it does earn the ghost of a smile of Isadora. He grins triumphantly and she swats at him, smiling wider. Farkle shrugs, assuring her that the worst of it is over. She’ll feel back to normal by tomorrow.

> **Isadora:** Yeah, except no. The billions aren’t going to evaporate like a hangover.

> **Farkle:** Is it seriously that sickening to you? Having money? I kind of feel like for having not had it for so long, this would be a relief. Once the initial shock wore off.

> **Isadora:** … I don’t know. It’s just like… every time you hear about it, so many forms I’ve seen it, have just been so… dark. Corrupt. The Van Herschings were wealth, but all they cared about was optics. How things looked, not what they were under the surface. Missy is wealth, and you know what she’s like. The things she’s done. You were wealth, back when you were obnoxious and intolerable. But your fucked up mental state gave you back points for originality.

> **Farkle:** Gee, thanks. I’ll include that in my college applications.

> **Isadora:** Greed is money, and it destroys everything it touches. It takes and takes, forgets to give. I don’t… ever want to become that. I don’t want to let it corrupt me, too.

Farkle considers this for a long moment. Then he looks at her, fiddling with thread on her blanket, vulnerable and worried in a way she rarely lets people see. He smiles, fond.

> **Farkle:** You know what the last lesson was going to be? Before Chai’s party kind of wiped everything out like the dinosaurs.

> **Isadora:** There were more lessons?

> **Farkle:** The truth is, money doesn’t matter. Not if you don’t want it to. I know that sounds really out of touch and elitist, so let me clarify -- obviously, I know it has power. There are too many people who have too much of it, and far more people who need it more than they ever will. I understand that. But I’m talking on a personal level. Money only begets greed when you let yourself get consumed by it, when it becomes the most important thing in your world. When it permeates everything you do. But you have the power to control if that happens or not.

> **Isadora:** … yeah?

> **Farkle:** I was never worried about you getting lost in riches, Isadora. Because I know you. Money only matters in the ways you make it matter, and I knew you’d make it matter for good reasons. It’s in your hands to decide what you do with it. That’s all the reassurance I need.

Isadora absorbs this perspective. Finally, it seems to give her some sense of comfort. It’s her decision, and she’s always been quick and effective at making decisions. All she has to do is puzzle out the ways to make it count.

**INT. CHUBBIES - DAY**

Lucas, Dylan, and Asher are back where they started the episode, having brunch at Chubbies while Lucas works. But Asher is in way worse shape, nursing a rough hangover and grumbling at his soup.

> **Asher:** This is hell. I think my brain is going to explode out of my skull like Play-Doh.

> **Dylan:** Mm. Deliciously vivid imagery, babe.

> **Asher:** I’m never drinking again. Ever. Ever ever ever.

> **Lucas:** I, too, hope you never drink again. It was disturbing. I like my Asher just the way he is, boring and unexciting.

> **Dylan:** Well,  _ I _ had a great night!

Asher and Lucas both cut him a glare, unamused. Given the about five new hickeys he has, yeah, easy to imagine why Dylan thinks that. He raises his glass cheekily, taking a long sip.

Riley pushes her way through the doors and the trio grows quiet, giving her soft greetings as she approaches. Dylan and Asher sense that they should give Lucas and Riley space, excusing themselves and telling them they’ll catch up later. Riley smiles as they say goodbye, then she turns her nervous smile to Lucas.

> **Lucas:** Sleep well?

> **Riley:** I am  _ so _ sorry about last night. I’m so embarrassed. I admittedly can’t remember most of it, but based on what Dylan told me, it sounds like a mess.

> **Lucas:** Riley, it’s all good.

> **Riley:** And based on what I  _ can _ remember… _ [ grimacing ]  _ I put you in such a terrible position. I feel so bad.

> **Lucas:** It’s okay, really.

> **Riley:** No it’s not. I mean, I know how delicate… all of that is. And for me to be drunk, it’s just… you didn’t deserve that. I know that must’ve been awful, and I’m truly sorry. And thank you, for taking care of me the way you did. Especially in regards to that.  _ [ a beat ] _ You know, when we… if we share things, I… I want to be present for it. I want to really be there for those moments. So thank you for… honoring that. _ [ touching his hand ] _ You’re a good boyfriend.

Well, jury’s still out on that. But Lucas brightens as if remembering something, holding up a finger to signal her to wait.

> **Lucas:** I have something for you, actually.

> **Riley:** For me?

> **Lucas:** Yeah. Give me one second.

Riley already tries to decline any fanfare or unnecessary attention but he interrupts her, silencing her protests as he disappears into the back room. He returns a few moments later, sliding a small wrapped box across the counter towards her. It’s wrapped in tin foil from the kitchen, but it’s the thought that counts.

> **Riley:** You know it’s not my birthday, right? And I know you’re not big on holidays, but there’s not any major ones for a few weeks at least…

> **Lucas:** _ [ with a laugh ]  _ Just open it.

Riley eyes him curiously, then sets to unwrapping the foil.

> **Riley, cheekily:** Cute wrapping paper.

> **Lucas:** Thanks.

She glances at him one more time, then lifts the lid off the box to see what’s inside.

Her expression changes the moment she sees it, playful hesitancy giving way to gentle shock. She carefully lifts it from the packaging to get a better look -- a delicate silver charm necklace, with the letter “L” hanging on the end.

> **Riley:** Oh my God…

> **Lucas:** It’s fine if you don’t like it. I can get something else, or you know, whatever.

> **Riley:** No. No, I…  _ [ gaping at him ]  _ How did you get this? You didn’t --

> **Lucas:** Steal it? Actually, no, I didn’t. So we can avoid that disappointment. I’ve been working so many hours at Chubbies, so I… came into some extra cash.  _ [ a beat ]  _ And I know I’m saving it for specific stuff, but what’s the point of money if you can’t spend it?

> **Riley:** Oh.

She’s glued to the necklace, turning it over in her fingers. But all he’s getting from her is surprise, the kind that’s hard to decipher, so he nervously fills the silence.

> **Lucas:** … I was just thinking that, uh, it might be nice. To have something from me. Something tangible, that shows that I… that I’m with you. Even if I’m not there, and stuff. And it’s got the initial, you know, so it’s like… if you ever feel like I’m far away or start to doubt… then you’ll have that, and you’ll know. That you’re mine.  _ [ a beat ]  _ Not like, in a misogynistic way. Not like I  _ own _ you or anything --

> **Riley:** No, no, I get it.

Finally, finally, Riley smiles. Sincere, joyful in a quiet way. She meets his eyes, full of fondness.

> **Riley:** It’s perfect. It’s so absolutely perfect. I love it.

Lucas laughs in relief, bashful. Riley fiddles with the initial charm, then looks at him expectantly.

> **Riley:** Are you going to help me put it on?

This takes Lucas by surprise, but he recovers swiftly. He nods, coming around the counter and taking the necklace from her. She gathers her hair up and out of the way, chewing her lip and smiling as Lucas delicately fastens the chain around her neck. She reaches up to touch the L almost instinctively, spinning to face him.

> **Riley:** Well?

> **Lucas:** _ [ unable to hold back a smile ]  _ Good. Really good.

Riley’s smile widens. Lucas gazes at the necklace then lifts his gaze to take her in, lightly brushing some hair out of her face and behind her ear. Then he kisses her, soft and sweet, taking the initiative. Riley grins against his lips, only pausing a moment before stealing another kiss.

Both of them jump when Joe breezes past them, calling them out flatly.

> **Joe:** Stop flirting on the clock.

Lucas grimaces in embarrassment as Riley bursts into laughter, nudging her head against his shoulder.

**INT. GARDNER HOME - CHARLIE’S BEDROOM - DAY**

Charlie is awake but unmoving, staring glassy-eyed at the ceiling. The sunlight streaming in through his balcony is too bright. It’s forcing action out of him, when he doesn’t think he should ever move again.

But the show must go on. He pushes himself into a sitting position, rubbing his eyes with the sleeves of his sweatshirt before he even realizes he’s still wearing it. He fell asleep in it, the sweatshirt he hasn’t worn in months since Zay let him borrow it a whole year ago. Representative of a school, a relationship, that he doesn’t belong to anymore. That he left behind.

After a moment, he pulls it over his head and discards it over the side of the bed. It’s not clear how he feels about it, hiding his head in his hands and rubbing his face.

But he pulls it together impressively fast when he hears his door open, acting as if he’s having a perfect morning. His facade fades when he realizes it's only Rosie, though, who closes the door behind her as soon as she enters.

> **Charlie:** Morning to you, too. Thanks for knocking.

> **Rosie:** It’s noon.

> **Charlie:** Afternoon to you, too. Thanks for knocking.

Rosie rolls her eyes, coming over and climbing onto the end of the bed. She asks how his hangover is doing, and before he can retort or deny it, she rolls her eyes.

> **Rosie:** Please, Charlie, spare me the delusion. I’m  _ literally _ fourteen, I’m not an idiot. To be honest, I’m amazed mom and dad aren’t  _ more _ concerned. You were acting bonkers last night when you came home.

> **Charlie:** Don’t remind me.

> **Rosie:** At least you didn’t throw up this time.

Charlie makes a face. What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her. But Rosie isn’t finished, asking what she came in to ask in the first place. She’s deadly serious as she looks him in the eyes.

> **Rosie:** I’m going to ask you a question, and you have to tell me the truth. The whole truth. Nothing but the truth.

> **Charlie:** So help me God?

> **Rosie:** Charlie, I’m serious.  _ [ a beat ] _ Are you an alcoholic?

> **Charlie:** What? No!

> **Rosie:** I said no lying. Don’t lie to me.

> **Charlie:** _ No_! No, Rosie, I am not an alcoholic. I don’t even drink --

Rosie raises her eyebrows at him, repeating her warning without words. _No lying._ Charlie groans, running a hand through his hair.

> **Charlie:** Okay, I  _ usually _ don’t drink except for the two rare irregularities that you for whatever reason have bore witness to. There. Why the heck would you ask me that?

> **Rosie:** I don’t know, maybe because you came home drunk last night? And you’ve been in a weird mood basically since you transferred to Haverford, and I have no idea what those boys are like --

> **Charlie:** I’ve been in a mood?

> **Rosie:** And I bet transferring is hard, I don’t know. I still don’t really get why you did it -- your friends from the art school seemed way cooler -- but I can tell that like… you’re not really acting like yourself. You’re snappy all the time. And it’s like you’re, I don’t know, hiding stuff from me. I’ve never felt like that. And the only thing I’ve ever seen you do worth keeping a secret was that night last summer, then you came back last night like that, and so my brain just…

Found the worst case scenario. Yeah. That’s how Gardner children operate. Charlie sighs.

> **Charlie:** I appreciate the concern. But I promise you, I’m not an alcoholic.  _ [ wincing ]  _ Honestly, after last night, I don’t think I’ll ever drink again.

> **Rosie:** That’s what they all say.

> **Charlie:** Rosie.

> **Rosie:** Okay! Look, I’m just like, worried about you... or whatever.

Charlie frowns, feeling guilty. It’s not his little sister’s job to worry about him, and that was never his intention. But it’s heartening that she cared enough to stage an intervention, albeit unnecessary. It’s touching that she even noticed his behavior at all, despite how hard he’s working to keep it under wraps.

> **Charlie:** Well, thanks for looking out for me. That means a lot. But it’s not your job to do that. It’s supposed to be the other way around. So how about you go do something wild and I catch you doing it, and we can call it even.

Rosie rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling. Charlie pauses, contemplating, and then continues.

> **Charlie:** … and you were a little right. _ [ a beat ]  _ I have been keeping things from you.

> _ [ Rosie straightens up, serious again. Charlie hesitates, then wills himself to speak. ] _

> **Charlie:** I’ve been seeing Bridgette.

> **Rosie, stunned:** …  _ what_? No way.

For a moment, Charlie braces himself, not sure if her reaction is out of excitement or disappointment. But then she smiles, eyes bright with wonder.

> **Rosie:** Oh my God! Is she okay? When did this happen?

> **Charlie:** Yeah, she’s doing okay. We only met up back in August, but we’ve been talking since earlier this summer.

> **Rosie:** Holy crap.  _ [ covering her mouth ] _ I mean --

> **Charlie:** Save the guilt. It’s worth a holy crap.  _ [ off her bashful smile ]  _ Maybe we can figure out a time for all of us to hang out. If that’s something you’d be interested in.

> **Rosie:** Um,  _ yeah_. Okay! Can we do it now, can you like… can you text her?

Rosie’s grin is so bright, it’s angelic. Charlie smiles, nodding and reaching for his phone.

**INT. CHUBBIES - DAY**

Zay makes his way into the diner, moving slowly. He’s limping just slightly on the foot that sent him into the pool, likely just having twisted it or something during the fall. Treating it tenderly now, so he doesn’t have to deal with it later. He glances around and then approaches the counter, addressing Lucas.

> **Lucas:** Nice to see you dry.

> **Zay, flatly:** Thanks. Is Riley here?

Lucas nods towards the corner booth. Zay nods a thanks, hesitantly making his way in her direction. She spots him coming towards her, cycling through a myriad of emotions in a second before landing on cautiously curious, eyeing him warily. He points to the seat opposite her.

> **Zay:** This seat taken?

> **Riley:** Depends who’s asking. Zay, or Diva Zay?

> **Zay:** Just Zay.

After a moment, she grants him permission, nodding. He slides into the booth, taking stock of the scenery around them before focusing on her.

> **Zay:** I’m sorry about what I said yesterday night. And how I’ve been acting.

> **Riley:** … well, I’m sure falling into the pool was enough of a wake-up call.

> **Zay:** Maybe, but you were more effective.  _ [ a beat ]  _ And I think you were right. About me. How everything got so fucked up.

Riley listens curiously, not pushing him to speak further. She waits until he’s ready, searching for what he wants to say. Being vulnerable has been a lot harder for him, lately.

> **Zay:** It’s kind of ironic. Such a big part of the problem with me and Charlie was the secrecy, the fact that he couldn’t… that everything had to be so locked up. And I told myself I was fine with it, and I think I was, when things were good. It felt worth it. But then breaking up was supposed to free us from that, was supposed to set me free -- or whatever bullshit -- and yet, it’s the same. Couldn’t talk about the good stuff, but can’t talk about the bad stuff now. It’s all still locked up.  _ [ a beat ] _ And I’m not going to… I’m not gonna change that now. I wouldn’t do that to him. But it means no one can really get where I’m coming from, what I’m trying to… process right now. I’m supposed to be free, but instead I’m just holding it alone.

Riley frowns, sympathetic. She knows the feeling, as the only other person they know is privy to the situation.

> **Zay:** And I guess I thought that even if… even after everything happened, with the transfer, that we’d be able to talk. He’s the only other person who’s experiencing it, so I thought we’d carry it together, but he just… disappeared. _ [ a beat ]  _ And I couldn’t tell anyone else, so I did the only thing I figured I could. I pushed it down and focused on the good things. Dance,  _ West Side Story_, building my network. My future. Because it was something I could control -- I had complete control over what I did with my time and how I achieved everything I wanted to. Only, as you very well know, I guess I took that focus too far. I didn’t mean to get like that, to end up shutting everyone out, but I guess I was so intent on proving I could endure it on my own that it kind of became a self-fulfilling prophecy. Like, I was  _ really _ on my own. This may come as a surprise, but…  _ [ shaky ]  _ this year is not going the way I thought it would.

Yeah, that goes without saying. Even though he’s not finished making his case, it’s obvious from the look on her face that Riley is going to forgive him. There was little doubt she would.

> **Zay:** So I let it get to me, and took it out on everyone else. Including the people who don’t deserve it -- including you. And that’s not who I am, or who I want to be.

As he goes on to explain, when he makes it to the top and succeeds, he wants it to be because of his warm attitude and strong community, not in spite of it. He wants to be the guy who makes everyone else in the room feel valued and appreciated, who uplifts those around him just because it’s the right thing to do, who would extend a hand in friendship to the new girl on her first day. When everything flipped upside down, he lost sight of that. He doesn’t plan to again.

> **Zay:** But even as I say all that, it doesn’t change how things are now, or what I’ve already done. So again, I’m sorry about the way I treated you. I want you to know how much I value our friendship. I want you there for all the moments, the wins and the losses. But I also understand that you’ve got to stand your ground, and you deserve to surround yourself with people who treat you right. So I hope you can forgive me.

Might be overselling it just a touch, for the theatricality of it all, but he’s not wrong. Riley examines him for a long moment, then returns a sentiment he gave her over a year ago. Back when it was her world falling apart.

> **Riley:** I’m not going anywhere.

Zay smiles, relieved. Riley gets up from her side of the booth and comes over to join him, sidling up next to him and linking her arm through his. She rests her head on his shoulder, the two of them enjoying the peace for a second. Getting ready to change for the better, to confront whatever curveballs this year has for them next.

**INT. ERIC’S APARTMENT - DAY**

There’s a pointed knock on the door, continuing in excess until Isadora emerges from her room to answer it. She grumbles that she’s coming, opening the door and ready to chew out whoever is being so obnoxious.

Only there’s no one on the other side. Isadora looks out into the hall, left then right, but there’s no one to be found. All she finds is an envelope on the welcome mat.

She opens it, revealing a hand-made card. It’s… unique craftsmanship, a bit crude, and the greeting on the front reads _sorry we’re both assholes :(_. But when she flips to the inside, the true message shines through, small handwritten notes from each of the techie tots sharing apologies for their behavior and the way they’ve been ribbing her as well as affirmations about how they value her contributions to the crew.

As she’s in the midst of reading, the deliverer shows himself. Nate sheepishly pokes his head into the doorway, coming to stand in the frame. Isadora eyes him over the card, then keeps reading, withholding comment until she’s done.

> **Nate:** Dave made the card.

> **Isadora:** I can tell.

> **Nate:** But I came up with the greeting. Thought it was fitting.

> **Isadora:** Yeah, I can agree with that.

The two of them address what happened at the party, Nate copping to the fact that he and a couple of the techie guys haven’t been the most welcoming to her return. And yeah, they’ve always ragged on each other as part of the group dynamic, but it’s got a different edge to it now with her. He apologizes for that, echoing the sentiments in the card, and says they’re going to try and be more open and thoughtful about it moving forward.

As nice as that is, Isadora admits that she doesn’t really think it’s their fault. Like yeah, she was upset, but it’s not like she expects them to grovel. She doesn’t think they should. She’s got her issues in the dynamic too, and it’s just… a weird situation, from everything last year to her mom dying and her trying to go back to those roots. It’s probably not ever going to be the same as it once was, but maybe that’s not a bad thing. Maybe they should just try to focus on rebuilding a better dynamic, one that builds on the old but is stronger for it.

Nate says he can be down for that. Nothing wrong with new. Having reached a middle ground, the tension eases between them. He offers her a first bump, and when they do it, she does the explosion motion afterwards that he’s been trying to teach her for years. This earns a proud reaction from him, truly sealing their truce.

**EXT. SVORSKI’S COFFEE - DAY**

Quinton is waiting at a table outside, looking as pretentious as ever in a blazer and Ralph Lauren sweater. He perks up when he finds Farkle approaching, growing smug.

When Farkle joins him he indicates he should take the seat across from him. As Quinton puts it, he knew this moment would come. He could tell he and Farkle were kindred spirits the moment he showed up for homecoming week. Savvy, well-connected, extremely talented -- it was only a matter of time. Of course, he’d be thrilled to mentor him.

But Farkle declines the offer to sit, claiming this meeting is going to be brief. And he’s not there to ask for his mentorship. Instead, he’s there to give him his honest appraisal of his presence this past week.

> **Farkle:** You’re open to feedback, isn’t that right? That’s what you told my friend Isadora.

Quinton quickly realizes this is not going to be a praise-fest. He sinks further and further in his chair as Farkle lays into him, reading him for filth on his attitude, his entitlement, his sheer lack of self-awareness at the behest of his selfish self-interest. What makes it all the more effective is the cool, sharp way that Farkle delivers the blows. It’s the manic fire that used to make him the subject of peer ire, only honed and refined, allowing him to land criticism after criticism with expert precision.

The thing about it all, as Farkle admits, is that he knows Quinton. He can recognize all these flaws in him, because he was going to be him. He was on this track until a chain of events completely turned his life around, and he almost died to come out the other side. He’s not suggesting Quinton _die_ , of course, but he strongly advises he change his behavior and wake the hell up. He can consider it advice from a mentor, if he so wishes.

Quinton doesn’t respond, fully humiliated since he just got destroyed by a sixteen-year-old beanpole with a better coiff than him. Farkle bids him farewell and starts to leave, but then remembers something. The slightly unnerving edge is back as he leans across the table to meet Quinton eye-to-eye, conveying his final warning.

> **Farkle:** Oh, and if you  _ ever _ bother Isadora again, you’re going to learn exactly why I’m everyone’s least favorite bitch in the senior A class.  _ [ raising an eyebrow ]  _ Hope that you never do.

And with that, it’s over. Farkle pushes back from the table and makes his grand exit, smirking to himself as he triumphantly marches away.

**EXT. NEW YORK COLLEGE OF THE ARTS - DAY**

Zay meets up with Simone on the beautiful and modern campus, home to the elite Turner Academy dance program. The two of them quickly catch up and Zay thanks her profusely for letting him come look at campus with an insider. She tells him it’s no biggie at all, then seems to remember something, reaching into her backpack.

> **Simone:** Wanted to give this to you before I forget. It’s a good way to show serious interest in the program, as well as give you a sense of your competition -- and maybe future friends.

It’s a flyer, advertising an invitation to the Turner Academy prospective student mixer. All potential applicants are welcome.

> **Simone:** I definitely think you’ve got what it takes. Not just in talent, but in drive, too. And heart, which is the most important thing. You seem like just the kind of student Turner is looking for.

> **Zay:** _ [ with a nod ]  _ Feeling more like it, too.

Simone beams. Then she suggests they start off the tour, leading the way deeper into campus.

**INT. ERIC’S APARTMENT - ISADORA’S BEDROOM - DAY**

Isadora sits at her desk, working on some homework with glasses on and hair pulled back into a messy ponytail. She’s dressed in old comfy clothes rather than any of the new items bought earlier in the week. Instrumental guitar can be heard in the background as she studies, playing from a small speaker next to the documents that Eric left there.

They’re more crumpled than when we last saw them, with occasional highlights and Isa’s scrawled handwriting making notes around the blocks of text. It’s clear she’s pored over it multiple times. She keeps glancing at them, mind occupied by the inheritance rather than algebra.

The track playing changes as Isadora sighs and sits back in her chair, the strumming guitar bringing us into...

* * *

**Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Girl Next Door” as performed by Alessia Cara || Performed by Isadora De La Cruz**

She slides the papers towards her as she starts to sing casually, almost as if she’s simply talking to herself, and flicks through the pages.

_Never have I ever been someone who’s had it all… like not at all, yeah..._

She takes her glasses off before looking around her room -- the walls she hides behind -- and stands up to move around the space during the back half of the first verse. She opens up her closet of new clothes, and when the pre-chorus swells, steps inside of it, walking through the hung up clothes Narnia-style.

**INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY**

Beyond the closet is the auditorium, dark and empty. A single spotlight turns on, and when Isadora steps into it, she’s no longer in her slouchy clothes, but the look she was wearing at Chai’s party, made up of her new buys.

As she sings the chorus, the camera slowly spins around her, her outfits transitioning every few seconds. There’s her customized prom dress, her Maya-inspired makeover look, an all-back ensemble reminiscent of her original season one style, and one clearly from her childhood with overalls, hair in two braids, and braces.

At the end of the first chorus, Isadora is in her black outfit. She walks off-stage, going into...

**INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY**

We glimpse Triple A as it was in the past, before Riley ever showed up. Isadora walks amongst the crowd, hugging her arms around her as she tries to avoid people. She looks a lot less self-assured than we’re used to, glancing anxiously around at her classmates.

_Never have I ever met someone who worries like I do_

_That’s nothing new, yeah_

**INT. AAA - BLACK BOX THEATER - DAY**

She heads into the classroom with her shoulders a little higher, being greeted by the techies, all dressed in gloomy colours, too. Maya and the Plastics follow her in, casting judgmental looks at the techies.

_And I don’t really like to get dressed up_

_What’s it to you? I know what I can do_

**INT. FOSTER HOME - DAY**

A busy foster home, buzzing with energy from children running around and teenagers arguing. Isadora is back in her childhood outfit.

_And I may not’ve been a genius_

_I’m just a girl with some reasons to stay Plain Jane_

As she walks through the messy space, Isadora accidentally walks into one of the older kids and shrinks under their glare. They yell at her, pulling on one of her braids and flicking her with the straps of her overalls. Frowning, Isadora shoves the bully away from her.

_But I won’t go, do you hear me? I’ll be sure not to leave before you know my name_

She storms away during the pre-chorus, rushing up the stairs and into a bedroom that looks like it’s been hit by a bomb. She passes a mirror, and in the reflection is a YOUNG ISADORA, dressed in the same outfit but smaller, more vulnerable looking.

_And if I have back the time that I’ve borrowed I know I gave everything_

She hangs on the reflection for a moment, looking at the girl she used to be. The girl who’s still with her, who always will be. Every version she’s ever been is part of her -- no amount of money or change or reckoning is going to change that. And maybe, in some ways, she owes it to that little girl, too. She sits down on her bed...

**INT. ERIC’S APARTMENT - ISADORA’S BEDROOM - DAY**

... but lands on her desk chair, the inheritance papers in her hands and comfortable, lazy clothes back on. Her expression is determined as she sings the final chorus and puts the papers down on her desk. She knows what she’s going to do.

Isadora picks up a pen, flips to the final page, and signs her name. Accepting the inheritance in full, and everything that comes with it.

_No, you won’t forget, forget this girl next door..._

* * *

She puts the pen down with a confident smile, a weight off her shoulders. And she already has an idea of what she wants to do with the money first. She pulls her phone out of her pocket and goes onto contacts, selecting a number and dialing with certainty.

> **Isadora:** _ [ after a moment ]  _ Yeah, hi. This is Isadora De La Cruz. Yeah, I’m doing okay, how are you? _ [ a beat ]  _ Great. Well, I think I can make it even better. I’ve got an idea.

Isadora leans back in her chair, settling into the conversation. The future, her impact, all in her hands to decide.

_**END OF EPISODE.** _


	8. Battleground State [ 3.05 ]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> THE VOTES ARE IN – The A class fights to advance in the senior showdown semi-finals. Charlie bonds with his classmates as Haverford proves they’re fierce competition. Adams elects their next student body president, and someone gets a serious wake-up call.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ( Follow along with the music on Spotify [here](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/17qHHA7v0GQbxmmKZa10Hv?si=-1x_9vv1RySKFUuJcEfY_g)! )

**INT. AAA - A/V CLUB STUDIO - DAY**

DAVE WILLIAMS is at the news desk, wrapping up the weekly announcements that are airing that Monday morning. With each Dogi Exclusive we see, their quality and presentation is improving -- this time, Dave is dressed in an actually nice shirt, and they’ve upgraded their map backdrop. You’re coming up, lads!

As he reminds us, the student body elections are fast upon us, with only a few days left until the big vote. In their final segment, he explains, they caught up with each of the frontrunner candidates to give them their final public say on why the people should vote for them.

**INT. AAA - ATRIUM - DAY**

CHAI FRESCO takes her interview on the steps in the atrium, looking especially polished and sleek. The discussions are filmed and shot like 60 minutes interviews, with close shots on each candidate and then a reverse shot on Dave or NICK YOGI as they ask the questions. It’s pretty self-serious, but because it’s Dogi, it’s quite endearing and slightly entertaining. And with the election so close, it feels pretty serious in its own right.

Dave is the one asking Chai questions. He points out that perhaps the biggest criticism to come towards her campaign is her lack of initiative. How would she respond to that?

What Chai has learned to hone over the course of her campaign is a smooth, effortless ability to spin anything into neutral. Sure, she still doesn’t say much of substance, but she does it confidently enough that it can be easy to forget.

> **Chai:** What people call a lack of initiative, I call proceeding with caution. Great ideas are shiny, nice to rattle off, but they’re just that -- ideas. If I’ve learned anything in my life, it’s that it’s better not to rock the boat if you don’t know how to swim. We can find ways to improve Triple A without ripping up the foundations and starting over. People might want to shake things up, but most people aren’t radical. And regardless of what I plan to do in office, I do plan to represent everyone. Not every candidate can say that.
> 
> **Lucas, pre-lap:** Well, of course she’s going to say that.

**INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY**

For LUCAS JAMES FRIAR’s interview, they’re situated on acting blocks on the stage, the backdrop of the techie havens of the prop and costume loft peeking through the darkness behind him. Yogi is interviewing him, as Dave was deemed too biased.

> **Dave, off-screen:** Vote for Lucas.
> 
> **Yogi:** Dave. Shh --

There’s a quick cut out of that, then back to Lucas, in the midst of his response. Where he’s improved over this experience is that when he speaks, there’s still passion behind it, but there’s a sureness to it rather than bristly edges. He seems more _presidential_ , more like the calm authority of Jack Hunter.

> **Lucas:** It’s easy to protect the status quo when you benefit from the status quo. I won’t deny that Chai represents people -- she represents the loud majority perfectly.
> 
> **Yogi:** And you think you’ll do better? Despite your own clear emphasis on your personal plights? It’s been stated that you “only care about the techies.”
> 
> **Lucas:** The techies are my people. Of course I’m going to speak on the issues I know the most about, that’s where I came from. That’s what I know. But the plans I want to implement aren’t just about that. Helping support and uplift an underprivileged group doesn’t mean _undercutting_ the ones already in power. And I think people are way more open to change than we realize, especially when it’s not being dog whistled as “radical.”
> 
> **Yogi:** So if you could sum up your position going into this final week, what would it be? What would you say to the potential voters of Triple A?
> 
> **Lucas:** Look, you already know who I am. Many people have their minds made up about me -- that’s fine. I don’t care. Forget about the personality of it, forget about the politics. If people want to vote for more of the same, for what feels safe and familiar, then they should vote for Chai. They have every right to do that. But if they want to see some actual improvement at this school, in ways we probably can’t even imagine yet, then they know which candidate represents that. The voters are smarter than they look, they can look at what each of us has to say and see who actually sees the issues, and the potential, rather than the structures that will keep things the way they are. And if they want something new, something that moves us forward as a school, then they know which box to check come Friday morning.
> 
> **Yogi:** And if they do check that box in a majority, and you come out the victor. Then what?

Lucas contemplates this, startlingly thoughtful for a moment on camera. _Then what?_ It’s a question hanging over all of their heads, for more than just the election. But when Lucas answers, plain and simple, it’s with a compelling, quiet confidence.

> **Lucas:** Then maybe things can actually change for the better.

We hang on Lucas’s expression -- intense, determined, but now with purpose. Then we throw to black, the lively guitar riff kicking off.

_Looking out a dirty old window, outside the cars in the city go rushing by_

_I sit here alone and I wonder why..._

* * *

**EXT. AAA - DAY**

**Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Kids of America” as performed by Green Day || Performed by AAA Seniors (Instrumental)**

Over a wide shot of students making their way into the building, a title card tells us everything riding on this very important week. Naturally, it seems a lot of stuff is happening at once.

**Turner Academy Mixer. Senior Showdown Semi-Finals. Student Election.**

Oh, my! Plenty on our plate this week, and we know the A class is so great at staying calm under pressure. As the opening verse wraps up, launching us into a full sonic rock sound…

**INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY**

The mood is fast-paced as students come and go, rushing through the halls with the music underscoring them. RILEY MATTHEWS is marching with purpose, putting up new posters for Lucas’s campaign and now with a handful of underclassmen helping her do it. She also hands out flyers to students as they pass her by, cheerfully reminding them to vote for the candidate who represents real change.

**INT. AAA - COSTUME LOFT - DAY**

ASHER GARCIA and JADE BEAMON are on the move, too, hanging up those same flyers in all the major techie workspaces. After they plaster a couple in the walls of the costume shop they move on, giving us the chance to see what exactly the flyer details. It’s a comprehensive, to-the-point list of all the initiatives Lucas plans to implement as president.

For the ones they’re hanging up in the techie spaces, there’s special emphasis on how he intends to improve things for the student technicians.

> **Dylan, pre-lap:** Now, I’m not going to tell you how to vote.

**INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY**

A bunch of underclassmen techies are assembled in the back center section where the seniors usually meet, DYLAN ORLANDO standing down front and holding an impromptu gathering to discuss the election.

> **Dylan:** I won’t even tell you that you _have_ to vote... even though the power of the vote is a hard-fought-for right in a democratic republic that would be a real tragic shame to waste. Apathy isn’t action, folks, it’s _inaction_. And we don’t have nearly the same amount of voter suppression here than there is out in the real world, so this may very well be the easiest vote you ever cast in your young life.
> 
> **Sophomore Techie:** Uh, Dylan? _[ uncertainly ]_ Lighthouse?
> 
> **Dylan:** _[ shaking off the tangent ]_ Right. Thank you. My point is, you all have the power to decide this election. And I’m not saying there’s a right or wrong answer, you’ve got to trust your little guts. No matter who you vote for, I will still love and support you all -- but here’s why voting for Lucas James Friar is the most important decision you can make as techies at Adams Academy for the Arts.

Dylan launches into his informational spiel, doing the work on the ground to talk Lucas up. Looks like building a base with the underclassmen might pay off sooner rather than later!

**INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY**

But Lucas isn’t the only candidate with a campaign strategy. Chai is pounding the metaphorical pavement with equal vigor, SARAH CARLSON and a few performer underclassmen handing out goody bags and buttons and baked goods as they champion a vote for her.

There’s far less about what exactly she’ll do if elected in her handouts, but they’re a lot nicer and flashier than a piece of paper. Chai has the money to go big or go home, and it’s clear she’s going to use everything she’s got in this final push. Her smile is charming as ever as she passes out buttons, her chirp to vote for Chai equally as compelling as Riley’s for Lucas.

**INT. AAA - ATRIUM - DAY**

From the safety of the main office, JACK HUNTER and ERIC MATTHEWS watch the campaign hysteria unfold. It’s engaging, if a bit overwhelming, to see the student body so fired up about an election. That’s not exactly common.

> **Eric:** I can’t remember the last time there was this much noise around senior class president.
> 
> **Jack:** That’s because there usually isn’t much competition.

Jack reminds Eric that typically, a couple of popular performer seniors “run against” each other, but easily accept the terms of runner-up being VP and just govern as a team. And by govern, he doesn’t mean much. This is the first time in years that there’s an actual friction between candidates, and even _minimal_ talk of implementing policy once taking office.

As he talks about it, it’s evident Jack is invested in the new politics. Eric smiles at him, raising his eyebrows.

> **Eric:** You planning any principal endorsements?
> 
> **Jack, flatly:** You know I can’t do that. _[ looking towards the students ]_ But off the record, if I’ve got a preferred winner come Friday…

He lets the thought trail off, not vocalizing it. He hardly has to, as Eric already knows the answer. He’d know it even if Jack tried to sell the idea that he had absolutely no preference whatsoever. Eric gives Jack a playful elbow nudge, then makes his way back to his own office.

Jack takes another moment to watch the hustle and bustle of the student body, electricity in the air. It could be anything, there’s so much going on this week… but he thinks it might just be the power of impending change.

* * *

**INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY**

Riley is at her locker, officially done with canvassing for the early morning. She’s on the phone, sharing details about the campaign party she’s got planned for Lucas at Chubbies at the end of the week.

> **Riley:** Well, ideally, it’ll be a _victory_ party.

**EXT. HAVERFORD PREP - BALCONY - DAY**

CHARLIE GARDNER is on the other end of Riley’s call, taking it from the balcony view at Haverford. He smiles at her excitement, leaning against the banister and looking out towards the city. The conversation cuts back and forth between the two of them during the call.

> **Charlie:** Yeah, because parties seem to be going so well this campaign season.
> 
> **Riley:** Well, we’re not Chai Fresco, are we? And this isn’t that kind of party.
> 
> **Charlie:** That’s what Chai said, too.
> 
> **Riley:** It’s at Chubbies. You know Joe would never let a bunch of teenagers trash his establishment. I think he’d probably have us publicly executed. He’s got a lot of public favor, so he could get an audience.

Regardless, Riley pointedly invites Charlie and claims she wants him to be there. After the craziness of the week, and whether or not all goes well, she wants her favorite people with her at the end of it all. That includes him, even though he has nothing to do with the election.

It’s a nice sentiment, but Charlie doesn’t seem won over by it. His expression has gone stormy, actually, thinking about the last time he took Riley’s invitation and mixed in with his former crowd. People who made it crystal clear they no longer want him around.

> **Charlie:** I don’t think that’s a good idea.
> 
> **Riley:** Why do you say that? If I want you there, doesn’t that make it a good idea? And… and you know, I’m sure Lucas would be glad to see you, too. After everything --
> 
> **Charlie:** _[ with a snort ]_ As if he even knows who I am.

Riley frowns. She was worried this would happen. And his sharp, self-deprecating tone doesn’t help matters.

> **Riley:** Is this because of Chai’s party? _[ frustrated ]_ Can you please tell me what the hell happened? I don’t remember much from that night, but I remember how worried I was about you. And when I try to talk to Zay about it, he completely shuts down, even though we’ve already worked out all of _our_ issues --

At the mention of Zay, Charlie grimaces. It hurts, like an actual physical ache. To think about what he said to him, how horribly everything went wrong. Charlie screws his eyes shut, shaking his head.

> **Charlie:** Just forget it, Riley. It’s not important. _[ softer ]_ It doesn’t matter anymore.

Riley can tell he’s lying. That they’re keeping it from her on purpose, sparing her the drama, but all it makes her feel is nervous. It feels too much like her parents, being on the outside to protect her yet still getting hit by the shrapnel anyway. Dreading the moment one of them disappears out of her orbit for good.

But she lets it go. She respects his space, claiming she has to go anyway. But she makes her case one more time for him to consider coming to the gathering on Friday, whether it’s a victory or concession. Charlie says he’ll think about it, but it’s a thin promise.

They hang up, Charlie glancing out towards the view of the city once more. Then he turns away from it, retreating back into the school.

**INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY**

Riley does not seem happy with how that conversation ended, but the worry is wiped from her face the moment she sees Lucas. He’s headed in her direction, looking more casually polished than she’s ever seen him in a nice button-down and with his hair combed just so. It’s more than obvious Asher took control this week, trying for one last-ditch effort to clean up his general appearance before the election.

She can’t help but grin, both out of amusement and fondness. Lucas rolls his eyes, sheepish as he approaches.

> **Lucas:** Don’t say anything.
> 
> **Riley:** What? What, I wasn’t thinking anything.
> 
> **Lucas:** This is so ridiculous. _[ uncomfortably stretching his arms in the dress shirt ]_ I don’t think this is working, or necessary.
> 
> **Riley:** Oh, no, come on. You’re so cute!
> 
> **Lucas:** Yeah, okay, definitely not working, then.

Riley tilts her head, affectionately reaching up to adjust the collar of his shirt. She closes her locker and the two of them head down the hall, discussing the state of the election and any last-minute moves they should make to push his candidacy over the top. Lucas fusses with his hair as he goes, intentionally messing it back up to something more like his usual self. They have an efficient rapport when they’re talking about the campaign, demonstrating how well they understand each other but also how seriously they’re both taking it.

> **Riley:** The seniors are going to be distracted this week because of semis, so any campaigning in their direction isn’t going to be worthwhile. But that’s not really a big deal. Most of them already have their minds made up.
> 
> **Lucas:** Do I want to know what the polling suggests? Or is blissful ignorance better?
> 
> **Riley:** _[ giving him a pointed look ]_ You’re polling fine, especially with the A class. Like I said, it’s not the seniors you have to worry about. What we need to do is sell to the rest of the school, that’s where a majority of the undecided voter bloc is. Now, Dylan is already talking you up to the underclassmen techies --
> 
> **Lucas:** Isn’t that an abuse of power? Or like, violating the code of good mentorship conduct or something?
> 
> **Riley:** He’s just highlighting your strongest qualities, not putting a gun to their head and forcing them to cast a ballot. Besides, it’s for the greater good. You should leverage influence anywhere you can manage it for the greater good.
> 
> **Lucas:** Okay, noted. You’re way scarier and far grittier than people give you credit for.
> 
> **Riley:** But only for --
> 
> **Lucas:** The greater good. Yeah, I got it.

Pretty clear “the greater good” is not ever how Lucas imagined describing anything related to him. But Riley seems to know what she’s talking about, and she says it with conviction, so who is he to argue with that? Riley takes his hand as they walk, squeezing it lightly before continuing their discussion.

> **Riley:** Anyway, Dylan’s got that demographic covered. But again, they’re not really your greatest challenge. It’s more --

Before she can explain further, she’s accidentally bumped into by a CHAI VOTER, an underclassman who looks frighteningly similar to a mini-Sarah wearing one of Chai’s glossy campaign buttons. She’s on the phone, and doesn’t even notice when she knocks into Riley and sends her stumbling against Lucas. He starts to say something to her, like maybe fuck off, but Riley holds up a hand to quiet him.

> **Chai Voter:** I mean, I don’t get why you’d ever vote for Lucas! He’s like the reigning asshole of Triple A. You know how much he hates performers, and all he cares about is the tech stuff. Well, that and himself.

Ah, yeah, it’s exactly _that_ that is Lucas’s greatest challenge. The ghost of his former behavior, and the same indignation that Missy pointed out an episode earlier. Riley and Lucas exchange a look, apprehensive.

How is he supposed to convince the whole school he’s going to represent them all, that he’s changed, when he’s having enough trouble selling change as his platform in the first place?

**_Cue title sequence._ **

**INT. AAA - DANCE STUDIO - DAY**

Another day, another run-through for ZAY BABINEAUX. He’s polishing up his audition routine for Turner, far ahead of the deadline. Although he’s working just as hard as ever, it’s a relief to see some of the aggression has left his expression as he works through the steps. He’s still riding on the high from touring Turner with Simone, the future feeling more tangible and in his reach than ever.

But there’s still kinks to work out. When he lands on the final step and relaxes, he winces slightly, shaking his right foot. It’s the same one he twisted on when he fell into the pool at Chai’s party, evidently still a bit sore. He releases a sigh and drops down into a sitting position, stretching out his legs and rotating his foot at the ankle. If he gives it the proper stretches, it’ll be fine. He always bounces back.

The bell rings, startling him and signaling he needs to get to class. He cuts his cool down short, jumping back to his feet and going to gather his things. He’s walking fine, no limp or anything, which is a good sign. He turns off the music on his laptop and goes to close windows, hovering on his email when he checks the most recent message in his inbox.

A reminder about the Turner Academy mixer. He’s already signed up for a spot, and the email is simply reminding him of the date, time, and location later this week. It’s clear from the expression on his face that he’s excited for it, that he really wants to go… but the date…

**INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY**

Zay struggles to keep up with MAYA HART as she’s on the campaign prowl, shoving flyers for Lucas’s campaign in people’s hand with a chipper “vote for Friar!” Her tone with Zay, however, is far less pleasant.

> **Maya:** The day before semis?! Seriously, Babs?
> 
> **Zay:** See, this is exactly why I didn’t want to tell you. I should’ve trusted my instincts. Especially when it comes to you.
> 
> **Maya:** I’m just saying, I’m shocked. You’re always the one lecturing _me_ about being selfish, about putting my goals before the team. Yet here I am, selflessly and graciously salvaging Lucas’s insane campaign -- _[ handing out a flyer ]_ vote for Friar! -- and pouring all my remaining energy into our semis routine --
> 
> **Zay:** Which you gave yourself major focus in all three numbers, yeah.
> 
> **Maya:** While you’re telling me you want to waste all your precious dancing kilowatts the night before we, the people, need them most at some… what? College mixer where you all show off how cool and talented you are to try and scare each other out of applying? You don’t need to grovel, Zayby. You’re better than that.
> 
> **Zay:** Mmkay, backhanded compliment aside, that’s not what a mixer is for. At least, outside of Mayaville. _[ off her scoff ]_ Look, I’m not asking for your permission. I’m more than capable of monitoring my own schedule and I know my own limits. I can handle both, and I’ll be in top shape for semis. I just wanted to give you the heads-up.

Maya shrugs, throwing her arms out dramatically.

> **Maya:** Whatever you say. What power do I have to stop you? I have to do everything myself around here! I swear, this place would fall apart without me.

She marches off, aggressively shouting to vote for Friar. Zay shakes his head, rolling his eyes.

**INT. AAA - GIRLS DRESSING ROOM - DAY**

Chai works her charm as she discusses her campaign with a group of girls, including Sarah, MISSY BRADFORD, DARBY WINTERS, and some underclassmen. Many of them nod along, wrapped up in the performer-centric sentiments she’s spewing, while Missy listens with her head tilted and lips pursed. When Chai turns to her, however, Missy replaces her thoughtful expression with an encouraging smile, which Chai appreciates.

ISADORA DE LA CRUZ approaches the changing room, poking her head in to look for Maya, but lingering when she sees Chai persuading potential voters. She watches with furrowed brows.

> **Chai:** Just remember that a vote for me is a vote for you, too! I have the best interests for _everyone_ at Triple A in mind.
> 
> **Sarah:** Meanwhile, all Friar cares about are the techies and scholarship kids. He doesn’t give two shits about the majority of us.

Isadora rolls her eyes, taking a step into the room and alerting the group of her presence.

> **Isadora:** Right, because having up-to-date equipment and a class full of the most talented people isn’t beneficial to all of us. _[ pointedly ]_ Without the scholarship program, we wouldn’t have our beloved Miss Maya Hart.
> 
> **Missy, under her breath:** And wouldn’t that be such a shame...

Although Missy clearly doesn’t care for our blonde bombshell, the underclassmen do, and share concerned looks and whispers. Sarah crosses her arms and levels her gaze at Isadora.

> **Sarah:** Izzy. This doesn’t really concern you, does it?
> 
> **Isadora:** Doesn’t it? My vote is still undecided. Am I not allowed to engage in a friendly political debate? _[ gesturing to the underclassmen ]_ We should have a clear grasp on _all_ sides of the discussion before making any decision... _[ focusing on Chai ]_ and a clear idea of each candidate and what they stand for. No?

Chai hurriedly nods her agreement, rushing to assure everyone that she has no plans to undermine the scholarship program or the techies -- she simply has a wider focus. Isadora narrows her eyes as she listens, taking in everything Chai says with a grain of salt that wasn’t there before the events of the party.

When Missy transitions the conversation, Isadora turns, no longer interested. Chai glances at her as she leaves with a slight frown. What’s gotten into her...

**INT. AAA - TECHNICIAN’S BOOTH - DAY**

Lucas and Riley have grouped with Dylan and Asher to discuss their final strategy, Lucas in his usual chair and Riley half-sitting on the arm rest. Dylan leans back against the lighting board table, Asher perched on top of it next to him.

Riley relays the run-in they had in the hallway. Lucas obviously has an image problem, and they’re going to have to do some last-minute action to convince the people otherwise.

> **Riley:** At least we know what the issue is. You’ve got a strong platform and compelling delivery, it’s just that certain voters still feel disconnected from you. Your policies don’t directly apply to them, so they need more pull.
> 
> **Lucas, begrudgingly:** Isadora said something about this last week. Shit.
> 
> **Asher:** Regret brushing her off?
> 
> **Lucas:** No, I’m dreading how smug she’s gonna be when she’s right.
> 
> **Riley:** It’s a problem, but it’s a problem that can be solved. We’ve still got time.
> 
> **Asher:** Yeah, and I think there’s an obvious solution.
> 
> **Dylan:** _[ nodding ]_ Mass hypnosis.

Lucas shakes his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. Asher pats Dylan’s shoulder, not at all sarcastic.

> **Asher:** Good plan B. Your mind amazes me. But no, that’s not what I was thinking. These undecided voters are asking why they should vote for you. They feel like you don’t care about them, that you won’t listen to their concerns. That you don’t listen, period. So maybe you should do that. Like... listen.

Riley catches onto his train of thought. If he wants to make it clear that he’ll represent all of them to the best of his ability, as he’s promised he would, then he needs to make himself available to them to hear out their questions and concerns.

It’s an excellent point -- one that Lucas does not seem thrilled to hear. He groans, slouching and tilting his head back.

> **Lucas:** I don’t wanna _do_ that.
> 
> **Asher:** Yeah, so what you should _not_ do is exactly what you just did right there. Seriously, you have the electability of a feral cat.

Grumbling aside, Riley claims this is something they can work with. She’ll brainstorm ideas as to how to implement these thoughts in the coming week before the election on Friday. Lucas points out the timing couldn’t be worse, considering Riley should be focusing on semis, not him.

> **Riley:** Please, it’s fine. Both matter.
> 
> **Dylan:** And Ash and I are going to the Haverford semi to stake out the competition, so we don’t have to waste any other energy there.
> 
> **Riley:** It’s good. We’ve got a killer team, boys, and we’re going to win this week. One challenge at a time.

Hell yeah! Riley exchanges high fives with Asher and Dylan, pumped up and ready for action. Lucas doesn’t participate, but he does smile as he watches the three of them. Even if everything crashes and burns by the end of the week, at least he’s got his team.

**INT. HAVERFORD PREP - AUDITORIUM - DAY**

Charlie’s hard at work, concentrating while Haverford wraps up a run-through of their final setlist for semis. From the tail-end of it, there are two key takeaways:

1) Haverford might be a serious challenge, as some of the moves they’ve got built into the end are complex and performed with sharp synchronization and precision. If that’s the last few bars, it’s hard to say what they might have in store.

2) Charlie has found his rhythm again. It’s not the effortless, free sort of artistry he usually has, but he’s back on the beat, hitting steps expertly and demonstrating his capability. If he can’t get his groove back with support, it seems he’s found a passable enough alternative through spite.

If anything, he’s taking a page out of Zay’s book, channeling all his frustration and energy into rehearsal rather than letting it run him into the ground like usual. He’s worked up and sweaty by the time they complete the run-through, though he’s not the only one. The Havies are working hard, determined to earn the title of showdown champs without question.

Still, even champions need a breather. BRANDON RIVAS gives a breathless summary of how he thought the sequence went, just as worn out as the rest of them but maintaining a calm, dignified demeanor as he gives notes. He eyes Charlie when he makes a quick comment about notable improvement since last week, but they can’t stop yet. He directs everyone to take a fifteen minute break, then they’ll launch back into another run-through to handle the critiques.

Everyone is grateful for the reprieve… except Charlie. He’s restless as he grabs a drink from his water bottle, obviously itchy to focus back on the choreography and forget about everything he spectacularly exploded in real time.

He doesn’t have to sit with it for long though, getting unexpectedly pulled into conversation with EVAN SCOTT and BILLY ROSS. The latter commends Charlie for picking up his game after all the fumbles last week. Evan suggests that Charlie join them and the boys for a hangout after school -- they traditionally spend a lot of time together right before semis. Bonding the group and all that.

> **Evan:** I mean, we’re already pretty tight after three years, but it gets us in the fighting spirit. And for you, you know, could be good… we know you’ve been busy and all that, no disrespect, but --
> 
> **Billy:** Might be nice for you to show your face once in a while when we all get together! How are we supposed to welcome you into the bro-hood if you’re never around to be welcomed, man?

Billy puts it a lot more succinctly than Evan was going to, but point made. The Haverford boys have extended Charlie chances for proper integration for weeks now, and he’s side-stepped every time. Who knows why -- his shy tendencies, brand loyalty to the A class, that need to self-torment and keep himself isolated -- but he’s done it either way.

_You were never an expert at making friends..._

Now, though, he might be ready for a change.

> **Charlie:** Um, sure. Sounds like fun.
> 
> **Billy:** _[ with a laugh ]_ Dude, you say the word “fun” like it’s nuclear. We’re not going to jump you or anything. We don’t bite.

Evan laughs along, and Charlie manages a chuckle. He’s so out of practice socializing it should be a crime, but he’s trying. Billy saunters off when DWEEZIL HOWARD shouts for him to join a conversation, but Evan hangs back and offers Charlie a light jab on the shoulder.

> **Evan:** Glad you’re coming, Charlie. Think it’ll be cool.

Charlie smiles, a bit more authentic than his laughter. God, he sure hopes so…

**INT. AAA - BOYS DRESSING ROOM - DAY**

Maya finally manages to find FARKLE MINKUS, who is cooped up in the boys dressing room. He’s reading a play for class while sitting on the counters by the mirrors, and he only offers a mild eye roll when Maya just storms her way into the dressing room.

> **Maya:** There you are! I have been looking for you all morning.
> 
> **Farkle:** Dare I repeat myself, _boys_ dressing room, Maya.
> 
> **Maya:** Rules don’t apply to us. And that begs the question _[ holding her arms out to the room ]_ what in the world are you doing in here?

Farkle holds up his play. Maya makes a face, like that doesn’t answer the question.

> **Maya:** You could read anywhere. Like the library. Or the black box. Or when we’re dead.
> 
> **Farkle, indifferent:** I like the peace.
> 
> **Maya:** Okay, recluse. You’re weirdly dispirited today.
> 
> **Farkle:** Am I?
> 
> **Maya:** But whatever. Doesn’t matter to me. You’re alive and breathing, and you’ve got four functional limbs, which means you can work.

She goes on to explain that between trying to get President Jackass elected and prepping the A class for semis, she has like no time to run these final errands for their competition. And that also means she has no time to find _other_ people to run them, so it’s his lucky day. She hands him a to-do list, which he frowns at, unimpressed.

> **Farkle:** Since when am I errand boy?
> 
> **Maya:** Since time is money, Farkle dearest, and you’ve got plenty to spare. Especially since you _insist_ on being apolitical. If you can’t help Lucas beg for votes, then you should have lots of hours in the day to complete that list. For the greater good, or whatever Riley is always saying.
> 
> **Farkle:** That’s not what she means when she says that. And I’m not --
> 
> **Maya:** Ugh, just get it done! I’ll text you a copy too. You can take Isadora with you, she’s bossy and meticulous and will make sure things get done properly.

Farkle sighs, giving up with a shrug. Maya remembers to thank him, dashing over to give him a quick theatrical peck on each cheek before marching backwards out of the room.

> **Maya:** And add getting your energy _up_ to that list! I want full power performance mania on Thursday. We’re going to need it!

She demonstrates a high-wattage star grin, then it shifts back to an impatient glare as she gestures for him to get working on it.

**INT. AAA - JACK’S OFFICE - DAY**

Lucas seeks additional counsel on his electability problems, going to Jack to vent about the situation. They’re in their usual set up, Lucas propping one of his feet up on the base of Jack’s desk and tapping his heel pointedly in frustration against the wood.

> **Lucas:** It’s just stupid. Likeability shouldn’t be the main criteria in choosing a policy maker. Who cares about attitude if your ideas are sound? Besides, it’s a baseless complaint. _[ intimidatingly ]_ I’m approachable!

Jack conceals an amused chuckle behind his hand. Sure… he claims that he can’t exactly give him full guidance, since he’s supposed to be impartial. Lucas rolls his eyes.

> **Jack:** But I can offer some perspective. When I hold parent conferences, or invite members of the school board to see the school, or when the school board holds sessions for constituents to come share comments and concerns, it’s not about having every perfect answer ready to go. It’s not just about content. We do stuff like that for appearances, to show the people we work for that we’re open to their opinion. That we hear them, to make them feel like they matter. Whether that’s true depends on the institution and the leader, but sometimes the show is all you need. To prove that you care, that you’re listening.

Lucas ponders this, though he still doesn’t look pleased. Their brainstorm session is interrupted when Eric appears in the doorway, clearly happy to see Jack as if they haven’t seen each other in days when it’s only been a couple of hours. He tamps down his grin somewhat when he realizes that Lucas is there though, clearing his throat and greeting him cheerfully. Jack tilts his head subtly at Eric. _Play it cool._

Lucas glances between them, suspicious. He can tell something is up… something is different… but he isn’t sure what. And it’s unlikely he’ll ever get there, since he can barely process his own romantic developments. But he has enough tact to promptly excuse himself, thanking Jack for the help and awkwardly nodding at Eric before sliding past him to escape.

Once he’s gone, the two of them burst into chuckles, Jack scolding them for laughing even while in the midst of doing so. He claims it’s not funny, that they need to maintain professionalism in some capacity.

> **Eric:** What? I’m not allowed to be happy to see you?
> 
> **Jack:** Clearly it’s too out of the ordinary, so no.

Eric rolls his eyes, shaking his head, as Jack rises to his feet. He begins a brainstorm of his own, emphasizing the point that even if they’re partners now, they have to figure out how that fits into their work world. They can’t flip everything upside down at school just because things have changed in their personal lives. And that’ll be hard, since they’re already so accustomed to each other. It’s hard to see where the lines between their worlds are drawn, they’re so blurry.

> **Jack:** We should establish some ground rules. Set strategic boundaries.
> 
> **Eric:** What do you think we’re going to do?
> 
> _[ There’s a pause, both of them making the mistake of contemplating the possibilities. Jack clears his throat, waving the thought away. ]_
> 
> **Jack:** Nothing, but rules never hurt. In fact, I’ll draft up a list over my lunch break for you to approve.
> 
> **Eric:** A list. Why am I not surprised?

Jack gives him a look, not inviting criticism at this time. Eric can’t help but smile, raising his hands in surrender. Besides, there’s a lot going on right now, between elections and the semi-finals for senior showdown, so maybe it’s for the best if they table the issue for the week. Eric claims he’ll give him space until the law has been written, he just has one request.

> **Eric:** Am I allowed a kiss on the cheek for my partner? Is that permissible?
> 
> **Jack:** … okay, but quickly.

Eric leans over his desk to oblige, giving him an almost comically swift kiss on the corner of his mouth. Jack grins and then clears his throat again, straightening up and maintaining his Professional Persona. They exchange a stilted nod, saying they’ll catch up later.

**INT. AAA - BLACK BOX THEATER - DAY**

Maya is chatting with Sarah and Darby between classes, lamenting all the work she’s putting into everything this week as the girls are gathering their things to transition from the theater to the auditorium. She’s especially impassioned about the effort to get Lucas elected, like despite the natural chagrin that takes over her voice whenever she talks about him, she might have actually drank the Kool Aid and actually _believes_ in his campaign.

Doesn’t stop her complaining, though, and Sarah is unimpressed.

> **Sarah:** Well, if you don’t want to do so much work, then just… don’t do it.
> 
> **Maya:** Can’t do that, Carlson. If it weren’t for me, I doubt Lucas’s campaign would’ve ever gotten off the ground. The movement needs star power.

Well… I don’t know about _that_ , Maya. But whatever you say. And she points out there’s plenty of work to be done -- lots of undecided underclassmen voters trying to determine which candidate to support.

> **Sarah:** I don’t know why you’re trying so hard anyway. You know a Lucas win is never going to happen.
> 
> **Maya:** Never say never. First rule of stardom.
> 
> **Darby:** I don’t know, Sarah might be right. Based on what I heard this morning, it seems like Chai has a pretty strong hold on the performer vote. And I was thinking I might vote for her --

Maya freezes, shifting from cordial and charming to attack mode in an instant. She narrows her eyes in disbelief.

> **Maya:** _Repeat_?
> 
> **Darby, nervous:** … well, I didn’t mean I _was_ voting for her. I’m still deciding!
> 
> **Sarah:** I’m not. I’m definitely voting for Chai.  
> 
> 
> **Maya:** Debauchery! What is wrong with you, traitors?
> 
> **Sarah:** How are _we_ the traitors? Why would I vote for Friar? Chai is one of us -- the performer, the _woman_. A powerful woman in charge sounds like the sort of thing you would be backing no question. _[ taunting ]_ What, do you have a thing for Lucas all the sudden?
> 
> _[ Maya gags, holding up a hand to silence her. Her convulsion is very convincing -- she might actually be swallowing back bile. ]_
> 
> **Maya:** That’s disgusting. Genuinely, you should be slaughtered for that. My ears are bleeding at the mere suggestion.
> 
> **Darby:** Well, he is cute…
> 
> **Sarah:** We know, Darbs. He’s a male, so you think he’s hot.
> 
> **Darby:** I --
> 
> **Maya:** I’m supporting Lucas because he actually has _policies_. What’s Chai promoting, shiny new dressing rooms for the performer elite?
> 
> **Darby:** Well, I think that was actually your idea to start --
> 
> **Sarah:** Yeah, he’s got policies that benefit _you_ , so of course you care. But what is he gonna do for me? All he cares about is the techies.
> 
> **Maya:** Smear campaign. Smear tactics, that’s all this is. Who said that?
> 
> **Sarah:** _You_ did! Like, a month ago!
> 
> **Darby:** And you know, Missy pointed out that he doesn’t actually have _that_ many policy ideas. She was saying that, you know, it might not look very good for optics, having someone like him as president --

Okay, well what the fuck does optics even mean in high school, but Maya isn’t listening to that. She got stuck on Missy the moment she was brought up, closing her eyes and holding up her hand again.

> **Maya:** I’m sorry, _Missy_? Since when does anybody give a diamond-encrusted shit what that interloper thinks?
> 
> **Sarah:** She’s been sharing her opinion pretty loudly the last couple of weeks. And honestly, I think she’s right.

Maya shakes her head, disturbed. She’s had about enough of Bradford enterprises and her effort to step on every single territory Maya owns as top diva bitch.

> **Maya:** Oh, _hell_ no.

Maya gets to her feet, marching out the door and ready to start a war. Darby panics, leaping up after. Sarah is close behind, though entertained rather than terrified.

> **Darby:** Wait, wait, Maya, don’t -- I shouldn’t have said anything -- it’s just my opinion! Wait, wait --
> 
> **Sarah:** Oh, I’ve got to see this.

The two of them scramble out the door after Maya.

**INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY**

Sarah and Darby are hot on Maya’s tail as she storms through the hallway with a glare as fierce as Medusa’s. Despite being so petite, Maya goes fast enough that Sarah has to rush to keep up with her.

> **Darby:** Maya, seriously, this isn’t that big of a deal --
> 
> **Maya:** Don’t tell me what’s hot and what’s not, Winters.

Maya ignores her, only one thing on her mind. Even when they pass Isadora and Riley at the former’s locker and Riley tries to get her attention, Maya isn’t distracted. They jog over to her, both with pressing matters on their minds.

> **Riley:** Maya, wait up! I want to ask you about Lucas’s --
> 
> **Isadora:** _[ speaking over Riley ]_ Where are you going? I need to talk to you about something. Chai --
> 
> **Maya:** Not now! I’m on the warpath. DEFCON 1.

Isadora and Riley share a confused, concerned look before tagging along with Sarah and Darby to chase after a very furious Maya.

**INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY**

Missy is lounging around holding court, giving teasing smiles and hair flips to a handful of underclassmen techies. They’re mesmerized by her unapologetic flirtations, hanging on her every word -- even though it’s clear she’s just toying with them for her own amusement. Maya’s voice booms around the room as she approaches the stage, making everyone jump.

> **Maya:** Hey, Bradford! We need to make a few things clear.

Fear strikes the younger techies as they scramble to avoid Broadway Barbie, but Missy only looks mildly annoyed. She looks Maya up and down, standing to meet her center stage. Sarah and Darby are close by, but Riley and Isadora remain in the wings, not keen to get involved in whatever drama is about to go down.

Maya gives her the short version -- if she thinks she can swoop in and start causing trouble, just because she’s got money to burn, she’s got another thing coming. And the last thing she should do is think she can take her long-time girls and bend them against her.

> **Missy:** Against _you_? Because they don’t want to vote for a street rat?
> 
> **Maya:** What is this, _Aladdin_? Is classism really that much of a genetic disorder?
> 
> **Missy:** Besides, I didn’t say anything that wasn’t what we were all thinking. Darby was already planning on voting for Chai when we were discussing -- right, Darby?
> 
> **Darby:** Um, well --
> 
> **Maya:** No, I know that’s not true. Because Darby always runs her ideas by me first.
> 
> **Darby:** I wouldn’t say that I --
> 
> **Sarah:** Shut up, Darby.
> 
> **Darby:** Okay, I’m sorry.
> 
> **Missy:** Well, maybe she’s found new counsel to consult. Look, I get it. Your star is fading, so you’re lashing out. It must be scary, becoming a washout before you even graduate and enter the real world.
> 
> **Maya, livid:** A _washout_?! Oh… ho ho ho, listen here, richy bitch --

* * *

**Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Candy Store” as performed by _Heathers: The Musical_ World Premiere Cast || Performed by Maya Hart & Missy Bradford (feat. Darby Winters & Sarah Carlson)**

_[ Lyrics specific to characters -- follow along[here](https://docs.google.com/document/d/1ynkSeLQ_t4tUQk2akEjObZFeTUZREDLaysLeTdSOVmU/edit?usp=sharing)! ]_

The upbeat bitch anthem serves as a face-off between Maya and Missy, who stare each other down at the start. They’re evenly matched, from fashion sense to stage presence, Prada versus off-brand Prada.

> **Maya:** _Are we gonna have a problem?_
> 
> **Missy:** _You got a bone to pick?_
> 
> **Maya:** _You’ve come so far, why now are you pulling on my dick?_
> 
> **Missy:** _I’d normally slap your face off, and everyone here could watch. But I’m feeling nice, here’s some advice. Listen up, biotch!_

As the two divas fight over Sarah and Darby, they circle each other. It’s like some strange cat fight, bitch ritualistic, though admittedly pretty entertaining. Missy provides her argument first, dominating the space with her cocky confidence. On the line _“kicking nerds in the nose,”_ she does a high kick and nearly clocks a freshman techie with her heeled boot, sending him reeling into the rest of them.

When the chorus kicks in, Missy sings with Sarah and Darby, while all four dance in sync. Since Maya is the odd one out, she’s cut off and swerved around during the choreography, having to fight to stay relevant. They look intimidating all together, aggressive and full of energy.

On the next verse, Maya swoops to the center and hip-checks Missy out of the way, making her case to Sarah and Darby.

_That freak’s not your friend, I can tell in the end_

_If she had your shot, she would leave you to rot!_

Then Maya takes on the next chorus with Sarah and Darby, mirroring the same routine with Missy as the fourth wheel. Then the old and new diva go head to head, arguing rapidly, with Sarah and Darby giving their input to agree with both of them. As the orchestra vamps on the spoken bridge, we throw to Riley and Isadora, watching tensely from the wings.

> **Isadora:** Should we do something?
> 
> **Riley:** For our safety, I’m thinking no.
> 
> **Isadora:** All of this for a high school election. I can’t believe I’m about to witness Maya decapitating Missy over _Lucas_.
> 
> **Riley:** At least she’s supporting the right candidate. Better to have her going to war _for_ our cause than against it. _[ with a shrug ]_ It’s for the greater good?
> 
> **Isadora:** I think you have a _seriously_ skewed perception of what that phrase means --

Their conversation is interrupted, the plastics taking over again. Darby enthusiastically goes for the power note, but naturally, Sarah shoves her out of the way.

> **Sarah:** _Shut up, Darby!_

All four bring out the big guns for the final chorus, the belting so overwhelming it’s almost grating. Trying to outshine each other, a bitch nuclear war like Triple A has never seen.

* * *

Honestly, thank God, it’s over. The tension is thick enough to cut with a knife, Maya and Missy locking eyes while Sarah and Darby stand between them. Finally, with bigger fish to fry, Maya backs off.

> **Maya:** This isn’t over.

Warning given, Maya spins so that her blonde locks fly out before marching away, head held high. Neither Sarah nor Darby are sure whether to follow her or stay with Missy, but when Riley and Isadora chase after Maya, their decision is made for them. Missy flicks her hair over her shoulder and struts away in the other direction, the plastics not far behind. Isadora catches up to Maya, surprised.

> **Isadora:** You’re just walking away? Big of you.
> 
> **Maya:** We have more important things to focus on. _[ gritty ]_ Lose the battle, win the damn war.

**EXT. HAVERFORD PREP - PARKING LOT - DAY**

Charlie emerges from the school at the back entrance, scanning the parking lot for Evan and Billy. He spots them in the priority spots, reserved for seniors, where a good chunk of their class is congregating and joking around together. They all greet Charlie cheerfully as he approaches.

Evan tells Charlie to pick his poison and decide who he wants to carpool with, unless he plans on driving himself. They usually take about three or four different cars. Charlie hesitates, glancing between Evan and Billy, before uncertainly choosing to join Billy’s car. Something about him is just so inarguably _cool_ , playing on that same eagerness to find approval that Charlie has had his whole life. Billy throws his hands up in victory and whoops, then throws a playful arm around Charlie’s shoulder.

> **Billy:** That’s right! You suck so bad, Evan, newbie chose me. Check and mate.

Evan rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t seem bothered. This is just typical Billy. He gets distracted joking with a couple other guys in his carpool and gives Charlie the chance to breathe, stepping closer to Evan so he can clarify.

> **Charlie:** Where exactly are we going?
> 
> **Evan:** Queens.

Charlie’s eyes widen instinctively, his own personal history with the borough washing over him in panic. He swallows it, trying to remain calm.

> **Charlie:** Queens?
> 
> **Evan:** Yeah. Dweez lives there, and his place is the best to crash at for group hangouts. His parents are like, mega rich, so his house is epic.

As if on cue, Dweezil exits the building with a couple of other last-minute stragglers, all of them waving and greeting the others as they jog over. Dweezil grins at Charlie.

> **Dweezil:** Hey, Charlie! You finally coming to hang?
> 
> **Billy:** Yeah, and he’s riding with me! So I win.
> 
> **Charlie, awkwardly:** Yeah. Sorry it took so long. I’m uh… notoriously slow.
> 
> **Dweezil:** No prob. Happy to have you.
> 
> **Billy:** And better ease up, C. I drive fast!

Billy laughs with a couple of his other friends, everyone starting to head to their cars. Charlie glances around, surprised, noting the major absence.

> **Charlie:** Are we not waiting for Brandon?
> 
> **Dweezil:** Nah. He almost never comes to this kind of stuff.
> 
> **Evan, helpfully:** He’s just really busy, especially right now prepping for semis. It’s not easy, being the leader.
> 
> **Dweezil:** _[ with a snort ]_ Not a job I’d want, for sure.

Charlie processes this, trying to keep up. Trying to put together the full picture of his new world and his classmates.

> **Charlie:** I thought… Brandon said it’s a team effort. Everyone pulls their weight.
> 
> **Evan:** Well, yeah, but leaders always emerge. Natural leaders, anyway.

Dweezil starts heading towards his car where other Havies are waiting, explaining that Brandon leads, but he’s not obnoxious about it. And it helps, having someone organized who keeps everything in line and holds them accountable. He’s a good friend, in all of their corners, but you don’t want to disappoint him.

Billy honks his horn, spooking Charlie. He rolls down his window where the passenger seat is waiting for him, jeering at them.

> **Billy:** Come on, Evan! Quit making out with Gardner and let’s go already!

Charlie chokes out a stilted laugh, but Evan doesn’t notice. He simply flips Billy the bird, who returns it gleefully, then shrugs.

> **Evan:** You can still change your mind and ride with me, if you value your sanity.

Sort of a tempting offer… but no. This is his social circle now, and he has to practice becoming comfortable with them. Charlie manages a smile, feigning confidence, and then heads towards Billy’s car.

**INT. BABINEAUX HOME - KITCHEN - DAY**

Zay is scarfing down a quick after school snack, chatting with DONNA BABINEAUX as she updates their family calendar on the fridge. He relays everything he has coming up this week, mainly highlighting the Turner mixer and then semis on Thursday. He emphasizes that semis should be on the calendar for _all_ of them, as he told them about it weeks in advance.

Donna waves off his cheekiness but assures him it’s there -- both she and Omar rearranged their work schedules to be able to come support him. That appeases him, so he moves past it, but Donna is still looking over his schedule. She points out he certainly has a lot going on, along with all those late evenings he’s been spending rehearsing on his own. Sometimes it feels like he’s got a busier schedule than she does. Has he taken a day off since he started _West Side Story_ rehearsals in the summer?

Zay scoffs in disbelief. He questions why _she_ is getting on his case about this, when she’s been telling him basically since he could comprehend English that he’s got to work harder than everyone else. Isn’t this exactly what she’s always telling him to do? Donna acknowledges that, but adds that that always comes with the caveat of looking out for himself, too. Taking care of himself, leaving room for a personal life, having fun. He is having fun, isn’t he?

The pause before Zay responds is revealing, but he assures his mom he’s fine. Succeeding is fun, and she raised him to be bionic. He’s tough, he can handle hard work. And everything on the calendar is good stuff, anyway, stuff he doesn’t want to miss. It’s good. It’s all good.

**EXT. NEW YORK STREETS - DAY**

Farkle and Isadora set off on their first errand, which is picking up costumes from the dry cleaners. He holds the door open for her as they arrive, ushering her inside as they discuss the fact that it’s even the two of them that have to do these stupid errands in the first place.

**INT. DRY CLEANERS - DAY**

Isadora waits for him to follow her inside, commending his noble efforts.

> **Isadora:** Well, it’s nice that you’re contributing.
> 
> **Farkle:** Oh, yeah, well, this is exactly why I didn’t kill myself. To run errands. My true purpose in life.

Farkle hands over the slip to the person working the register, who goes to collect the items. While they wait, Isadora asks Farkle how college applications are going for him. In the craziness of everything else, it’s easy to forget they’re all working on them behind the scenes. Farkle shrugs, still sort of aloof about the whole thing. She asks if it’s going okay at the same time as like… therapy and his recovery, which he confirms, reiterating that with a lot of his privileges, it’s hardly that stressful.

> **Farkle:** It’s really more about _where_ I want to go rather than if. Which I realize is a really fucking pretentious thing to say, but…
> 
> **Isadora:** Yeah, I got it, little rich boy. Honestly, I’ve thought about that, too. Like, when my inheritance comes through in full, I’ve thought like… I could probably _pay_ for Lucas to go to school. Whatever one he wants. Then he could focus on enjoying senior year rather than building a million different back-up plans to try and scrounge enough to get into his top choice -- UC Davis, by the way.
> 
> **Farkle:** Davis? That’s industrious.
> 
> **Isadora:** Yeah. I think for the vet school.
> 
> **Farkle:** I didn’t know he wanted to be a vet.
> 
> **Isadora:** There’s a lot you don’t know about Lucas James Friar. By his own invention.
> 
> **Farkle:** Touché.
> 
> **Isadora:** But I know he would never accept the money. It’s like some dumb pride thing, like even if it would make his life a thousand times easier, he can’t just take support from a friend. It’s just like pity, or something.
> 
> **Farkle:** Huh. Kind of sounds like someone I know…
> 
> **Isadora:** _[ elbowing him ]_ Anyway. Where are you looking?

Farkle hums, sorting through the mental list. NYU, of course, and the neighboring Ivys. Columbia. Cornell. Princeton. Then the major arts schools, like Pace. But he’s also been looking further out of state… ever since their visit to LA last summer, he’s been thinking a lot about Southern California. They’ve got an arts community all their own, and USC is one of the top universities in the country for acting…

> **Isadora:** Los Angeles. You’re thinking about going to _LA_?
> 
> **Farkle:** Thinking. Not deciding. _[ a beat ]_ Is that a problem?
> 
> **Isadora:** No. No, it’s just… it doesn’t seem like your speed. You’re so damningly New York. I don’t know if you’d even survive a dry season out there. Your beanpole bones might dry out and disintegrate.
> 
> **Farkle, deadpan:** Ha ha ha. Top tier comedy.
> 
> **Isadora:** And I guess… I don’t know. With NYU being my top choice, I guess I just had it in my head that we’d still be together. Maybe even at the same school.
> 
> **Farkle:** … is that something you want?

Whatever grand revelation they may or may not be on the cusp of, it’s interrupted by the dry cleaner returning with their order. And it’s a _lot_ , 20+ materials for their showdown shenanigans, so all other thoughts go out the window as the two of them dive into figuring out how to transport everything efficiently.

**INT. DWEEZIL’S ESTATE - DEN - DAY**

The Havies have arrived at Dweezil’s, a cushy, posh estate in Queens that could rival Chai’s Brooklyn mansion. They swarm into the den like they’ve been there a thousand times, making themselves comfortable and engaged in about five separate conversations. Dweezil starts throwing out snacks for people to grab, clearly a common routine.

For Charlie, it’s all new, though. He takes his time easing his way into the den, taking it all in and trying to figure out where he fits. Watching the Haverford boys as part of the crowd yet a passive observer, not able to just jump into the fray like the rest of them because he doesn’t know the choreography. And it’s clear he wants to stay on the sidelines, hanging on the fringes and just listening rather than seeking attention.

Unfortunately for him, that doesn’t last long. He’s the shiny new toy, and there’s too much mystery around him. Billy shouts for Evan to put on some tunes and then shifts focus to him, drawing him into conversation loudly enough that it interrupts the other ongoing chatter.

> **Billy:** So what’s the deal with you, anyway?
> 
> **Charlie:** Um, what?
> 
> **Billy:** Like why’d you transfer?
> 
> **Charlie:** Oh... oh.
> 
> **Billy:** I mean, Triple A _sucks_ , but clearly it’s worth going there if it’s so exclusive or whatever.
> 
> **Evan:** Not to mention expensive. Gotta be paying for something.
> 
> **Billy:** So what gives? Did you really just wake up and realize Haverford was superior -- correctly -- or what? And do you like, miss it?

Heavy questions, Billy, heavy questions! Charlie stumbles through a response, shrugging and rattling off the same answer he gave Principal Jackson. But yeah, he does miss it… mainly the people, though. His friends. The friends he had before he left.

Somehow, between his answer and his flustered tone, the boys get it in their heads that this is about a break-up. Charlie quickly tries to thwart that take, but they’ve already latched onto it.

> **Charlie:** No, ha ha, it wasn’t like --
> 
> **Billy:** Some girl fucked up and broke your heart, huh?
> 
> **Dweezil:** Well, it could’ve been a guy. Don’t be heteronormative, Billy.
> 
> **Charlie:** _[ voice cracking ]_ No, seriously --
> 
> **Billy:** Romance so bad it kicked you out of Adams. That’s so sad. I mean, better for you, actually, but sad. Ev-lexa, play “fuck you break up playlist.”
> 
> **Evan:** On it.
> 
> **Charlie:** Guys, it’s not… it’s not like that. It was my choice to leave. I… _[ a beat ]_ What I did, I did for me.

The boys don’t pick up on his melancholy, running with the disaster romance narrative because it’s more fun. Dweezil assures Charlie they’re on his side, bros before hoes, and they’ve got his back. Billy echoes this, then perks up when he hears the song Evan is cycling through on the sound system.

> **Billy:** Oh, shit, this is a good one. Turn that shit up!

He jumps to his feet, already dancing a bit. All of the boys seem invigorated by a good song, actually, eager to sing along to something that isn’t the numbers they’ve been rehearsing over and over for weeks. Charlie watches apprehensively, hopping onto the pool table and taking advantage of the excuse to get out of the spotlight.

* * *

**Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Temporary Heart” as performed by PRETTYMUCH || Performed by Haverford Seniors**

Billy takes the lead on jumping into the groovy heartbreak pop track, carrying through the first verse. It’s the first time we’re hearing each of the main Havies more as individual voices than perfect harmonized back-up for Brandon, and they’re definitely good.

That, and they’re playful with one another in that goofy, slightly homoerotic way large groups of guys tend to be. They serenade one another theatricality, but of course, given the earlier conversation, Charlie is getting a larger percent of the attention. The guys shift between singing _at_ him versus trying to pull him into it, but he waves them off and bashfully tries to stay out of it.

But in spite of the teasing nature, there’s something appealing about it. There’s a rush to being included in a group again, being the center of attention even when he hates it. There’s a group of people trying to rope him into the fun, to participate, offering a new form of gravity so he can stop drifting alone.

So on the bridge, Charlie joins in. He leaps off the table and breathlessly launches into the fray, risking rejection and channeling his own unspoken emotion into it ( _“you’re no good, you’re no good, you’re no good for me / say you love me but don’t wanna be with me”_ ). For a moment, the Havies are surprised, but it only takes a second for them to welcome him into the performance, clapping him on the shoulders and backing his vocals as they pull him into the circle. It’s both cool and unsettling, how effortlessly his vocals fit into the Haverford mold.

The boys round out the rest of the performance, Charlie standing back-to-back with Dweezil, Evan, and Billy and harmonizing circles around each other. He’s smiling, more comfortable than he’s seemed at all thus far.

* * *

**INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY**

Lucas meets with Riley, Asher, Dylan, and Maya, relaying his game plan for final election week campaigning. If he needs to prove to the people that he’s working for them, then unfortunately, that’s what he’s going to do. He’ll be holding a “town hall” in the booth throughout the rest of the week, welcoming them into his space to share their concerns or ask questions about his policies or how he plans to utilize the position of president.

> **Dylan:** The _booth? [ with a gasp ]_ What a sacrifice.

Riley thinks it’s a great idea, stating that she’ll hang around throughout and help facilitate. Asher can’t, as he has to help Jade with costume stuff for semis, but he agrees it’s probably a good idea. He wishes all of them luck -- _especially_ Lucas.

Well, no turning back now. Dylan asks if he’s ready, and Lucas takes a deep breath, preemptively centering himself.

> **Lucas:** Well, let’s do this thing, or whatever.

**INT. AAA - TECHNICIAN’S BOOTH - DAY**

And that launches us into a montage of students coming to talk to Lucas, holding the floor while he listens -- sometimes convincingly, sometimes begrudgingly -- from his spot in his usual chair. This gives us a silly little glimpse at some of the varied personalities in the underclassmen ranks -- and some are definitely modeled after familiar A class personalities.

But there are also already familiar faces. NATE MARTINEZ takes the hot seat and pretends to be a hard-hitting, hard-to-please voter. What are you gonna do for _him_ , Lucas? Lucas isn’t amused.

> **Lucas:** Nate… you are also running. Against me.
> 
> **Nate:** You must not have seen my career-breaking meltdown on Twitter! Shame, it was primetime cable media gold. I was all “THERE IS NO EROSION” and “STOP THE DIRT!” So I’m totally out of this race now. _[ cocky ]_ You’re welcome.
> 
> **Lucas:** Erosion? What the hell are you talking about?
> 
> **Nate:** Oh, I was tweeting about soil. I had a test in Norton’s class, geology unit. But you say anything loudly and aggressively enough, people’ll think it’s offensive. So anyway, back to business! What are you doing for me, Friar?
> 
> **Lucas:** Get out of my booth.

Next up, Jade takes the forum just to make Lucas listen to her complaints about how costume teaching is going -- like how he’s been blowing it off. Been a little busy, Jade! NIGEL CHEY follows her next, reiterating the same points.

> **Lucas:** Since when do you care about costuming? Or me?
> 
> **Nigel:** I’m just backing up Jade. She’s been lamenting this stuff for weeks -- years, as I understand it. Thought she could use the back-up.
> 
> **Lucas:** You’ve got to be kidding me…
> 
> **Nigel:** Don’t worry though, I’m definitely voting for you. Watching you eviscerate Chai was so hysterically ridiculous it won me over.

Darby takes the chance to actually consider the notion of voting for Lucas, but she’s so nervous about “getting caught” she can barely speak with him. She keeps talking about how Chai is going to kill her, but then maybe Maya will kill her, until she finally gets frazzled enough to make a frantic escape.

> **Darby:** By the way, I _don’t_ think you’re hot!
> 
> **Lucas, bewildered:** … sorry?

Zay shows up with a list of his own, claiming he needed to write it down because his concerns are very important. Lucas is growing progressively less patient, but he gestures for Zay to go on.

> **Zay:** Great. Ahem. _[ clearing his throat ]_ Can’t dance. Stunted emotional growth. Dating a girl way out of his league. Can’t dress himself. Once wore a graphic tee layered over a long sleeve sweatshirt unironically. Actually, more than once. Can’t dance (again) --
> 
> **Lucas:** I’m sorry, what is this? What am I listening to?
> 
> **Zay:** Oh, these are my concerns about you. _[ innocently ]_ Isn’t that what this forum is for? Expressing comments and concerns?

Zay beams, knowing he’s untouchable. Lucas looks about three seconds away from throttling him, but he restrains himself.

The last of the montage is DAVE WILLIAMS. He seems content to be there in contrast to Lucas’s exhaustion, so he’s a bit blunt with him.

> **Lucas:** What say you, Dave?
> 
> **Dave:** … am I supposed to have something to say? I thought we were just hanging out. :(

Lucas slaps his notepad against his face, sliding deeper into his chair.

**INT. AAA - BOYS DRESSING ROOM - DAY**

Zay is in the dressing room when Farkle stumbles his way in, literally hidden behind the mountain of costumes he’s carrying. Zay watches in mild amusement until he loses his precarious hold and a bunch of them go scattering to the floor, Farkle rolling his eyes and dropping the rest of them pointedly.

> **Zay:** Jesus Christ, Farkle.
> 
> **Farkle:** This is why no one should fancy me an errand boy. _[ a beat ]_ And since we’re sometimes friends, you can just call me Farkle.

Zay makes a face, but he does hop up to help Farkle clean up his mess. The two of them collect the costumes and hang them on the nearby rack, Zay asking what the hell he’s even supposed to be doing with them. He doesn’t costume. Farkle explains he’s essentially doing the grunt work, tagging all of them appropriately for the right person and then bagging them for travel.

As he starts on the task, the two of them chat. Farkle brings up the fact that Maya mentioned he’s going to the Turner mixer.

> **Farkle:** Night before semis, right? Maya thinks you’re going to tire yourself out showing off and ruin everything on Thursday.
> 
> **Zay:** Yes, she let me know. Glad to hear she’s telling everyone else though. But it’s just a mixer, not like I’m already auditioning.
> 
> **Farkle:** Hey, no need to argue with me. I think it’s a good idea. Get a feel for the competition, make a good first impression. _[ a beat ]_ If I knew where I wanted to go, at least, it’s something I’d probably try to do.

Well, that’s unexpectedly nice and supportive. Zay nods, then changes the subject to Farkle’s mood as of late. Is _he_ tired out? Farkle claims he doesn’t know what Zay is talking about.

> **Zay:** Well, I mean, last couple weeks you were like bouncing off the walls. Old school, original recipe Farkle. That soap box you hopped on about the corruption of high school gym was like being shot back to freshman year against my will.
> 
> **Farkle:** And I was right.
> 
> **Zay:** Whereas now it seems like… I don’t know. Like you took a major Xanax. Junior year depression remix, pre-comeback-featuring-buzz-cut.

Bottom line, he guesses he’s just checking that he’s like… fine. Farkle says that being mellow doesn’t equal suicidal ideation, but yes, he’s fine. And he supposes he appreciates Zay asking.

The conversation shifts to talking about the rest of the week, namely the election. Zay notes Farkle’s extremely removed attitude towards the whole thing -- apparently for his own good, he knows -- but he is gonna like… vote, right? He doesn’t know if he noticed, but surprisingly, a lot of underclassmen are waiting to see if he says something.

> **Farkle:** About what?
> 
> **Zay:** Like, which candidate you’re gonna vote for. An endorsement, I guess. They care a lot about your opinion, why I cannot imagine. It doesn’t make sense to _me_ , since I know you and I know you’re a lunatic --
> 
> **Farkle:** The politically correct term is mentally unfit, but I prefer maniac, personally.
> 
> **Zay:** But for whatever reason, they care about what you think. You should honor that power, or at least take it seriously.

Farkle didn’t even realize people were paying attention to him, least of all after everything last year. He’s not sure he believes it, but he thanks Zay for the advice anyway. It’s hard to tell if it’s sincere with his flat delivery, but hey, it’s something.

**INT. AAA - TECHNICIAN’S BOOTH - DAY**

Lucas wraps up another meeting with a constituent just before lunch, Riley guiding them out and reminding them about the vote process on Friday. The moment they’re alone, Lucas’s professional demeanor crumbles. He slouches in his chair and groans into his hands, obviously drained. Riley can’t help but smile as she climbs the stairs again, amused.

> **Riley:** Tired?
> 
> **Lucas:** If I have to hear one more person talk, I’m going to set myself on fire.
> 
> **Riley:** I’m talking.
> 
> **Lucas:** If I have to hear one more person talk _other_ than you, I’m going to set myself on fire.
> 
> **Riley:** Aw, well, I won’t take that honor lightly. It’s nice to be the exception.
> 
> **Lucas:** _[ dropping his hands to look at her ]_ You are always the exception.

The sincerity of it catches Riley off guard, especially with how casually he says it. She crosses the booth to join him at his chair, leaning forward to give him a kiss. She claims she’s proud of him, for doing so well and putting so much effort into something he cares about.

> **Lucas:** Please kill me.

Riley laughs. She gives him another quick kiss on the head and accepts one from him on her cheek, then states she’s going to go grab something special for lunch. They’ll eat something good, then debrief the meetings he’s already had before they jump into the afternoon round. They exchange comfortable goodbyes as she heads out, leaving Lucas for a much needed moment of solitude.

Just as he’s settling into the familiar quiet, though, it’s disrupted. He looks up as the door opens again, only it’s not Riley dashing back for a quick moment.

Missy. She looks around the cramped, darkened booth and wrinkles her nose, starkly out of place in her expensive clothes. Then she zeroes in on Lucas, whose walls go back up the instant he recognizes her.

> **Missy:** Well… this is quaint. This is where you hang out? No wonder you’re so uncouth.
> 
> **Lucas:** What are you doing here?
> 
> **Missy:** I heard you were holding assembly with your constituents. Or was that a false promise?
> 
> **Lucas:** I’m on a break. So you can go.
> 
> **Missy:** Hm. “Refused to listen to a well-intentioned voter who just wanted to chat, because his _break time_ was more important.” I’m sure that will read well as a final stretch election scoop… really convincing that you want to work for the people…

Lucas grits his teeth. It takes everything in him not to tell her off, but she’s right. Professionalism is more important right now than ever. So he sighs, gesturing for her to go on with only relative disdain.

Given permission, Missy saunters further into the space, closing the safe distance separating them. She pokes at the lighting board, then eyes him curiously, both of them staring each other down. She seems intrigued by the tension -- he seems annoyed.

> **Lucas:** You said you wanted to chat. So chat. What can I do for you?
> 
> **Missy:** Well, I guess that’s just it. I’m technically still an unconvinced voter, so convince me. _[ turning to face him ]_ What _can_ you do for me?

If there’s an implication there, it goes right over Lucas’s head. He gives Missy the same practiced and articulate explanation of his policies, but it doesn’t seem like she’s really listening. She’s nodding along, but her gaze is drifting, taking more of him in than any of his words. Her expression is hard to dissect… it’s curious, still infused with condescension and distaste, but there’s something more complicated to it, too. Like... fascination, an inexplicable pull to his low class, crass, unpolished existence.

> **Lucas:** So that’s it. Any questions?

Missy blinks, clearing her throat. She wasn’t listening, so she obviously doesn’t have any, at least not related to his campaign.

> **Missy:** Just tell me this, Friar. You’ve already taken my contributions, regardless of whether or not I’m going to vote for you.
> 
> **Lucas:** Not like I asked for it.
> 
> **Missy:** So tell me the truth. Are you going to return on that investment? _[ raising an eyebrow ]_ If I’m putting stock into you -- your presidency, or what have you -- is that going to pay off?

Lucas glares at her, begrudging. She holds eye contact, not backing down. In fact, she seems more in her element this way, when the back and forth is sharp and a little bit charged. That seems to be how she prefers it.

> **Lucas:** If you have your doubts, then you can keep your investments to yourself. _[ a beat ]_ But I think so, yes. If I get the chance, then I’m going to deliver.

Whatever that means to him, it works for Missy. She’s made a decision -- but about what, hard to say. She gives him a curt little nod, a smirk slipping onto her lips.

> **Missy:** That’s all I wanted to know. Thank you for your time, Slumdog President.

With that, she sets him free, spinning on her heel and making her exit. Lucas waits until she’s gone to let out a sigh, feeling uncomfortable even though he’s not sure exactly why. He shakes off the nerves, distracting himself with notes from the meetings.

**INT. AAA - CAFETERIA - DAY**

The cafeteria is already filling up at the start of lunch, a long line of students waiting to choose their food while others already sit at tables, talking and laughing loudly. Chai is making her way around the space, shaking hands and giving out cupcakes as insurance for votes. Isadora watches from where she and Dylan stand in line, picking what they want to eat.

> **Isadora:** Can I ask for your advice on something?
> 
> **Dylan:** Sure. But if it’s whether you should pick chocolate or strawberry milk, I’ll be no help.
> 
> **Isadora:** It’s not that.
> 
> **Dylan:** Oh, good. Could you tell me which to pick, then? It’s an impossible choice.

Isadora shakes her head with a small smile as she reaches forward to grab a strawberry milk carton to place on Dylan’s tray, and juice for herself. He thanks her as they slide down the counter, towards the cashier. Isadora pays with a card with credit stored on it, while Dylan roots through his pockets to find the exact amount of change needed.

They take seats at a small table to the side of the cafeteria, Dylan smiling in greeting at some techie underclassmen before returning his focus to Isadora, asking what she wants advice on.

> **Isadora:** Right. So, the thing is, I... I don’t know how to say something.
> 
> **Dylan:** You said it fine there.
> 
> **Isadora:** Huh?
> 
> **Dylan:** “Something.” You said it right.

Isadora laughs, although she honestly isn’t sure if he was joking or not.

> **Isadora:** Anyway, I need to tell someone that I know something, but I don’t know how.
> 
> **Dylan:** Something about them? _[ off Isadora’s nod ]_ Do they know the thing that you know?
> 
> **Isadora:** _[ slowly, making sense of it ]_ They know what I know, but they don’t know that I know. At least, I don’t think they do.

Dylan hums in understanding, considering the situation. Meanwhile, across the cafeteria, Farkle spots them from the performer table and offers a friendly wave, to which Isadora offers an air punch. Farkle reacts as if she actually hit him, stumbling backwards and clutching at his chest. Isadora laughs and Farkle smiles widely before taking a seat. As Dylan observes the interaction, something dawns on him and his eyes go wide.

> **Dylan:** _[ with a grin ]_ I know _exactly_ what this is about.
> 
> **Isadora:** You do?
> 
> **Dylan, excitedly:** If you know what they know and they don’t know that you know what they know, you should tell them. And however you feel, too. I know I may not be their biggest fan, but I fully support this and will be rooting for you all the way.

Isadora is completely baffled, but Dylan looks totally sincere. She remains quiet for a moment, trying to figure out what he means. The expression is meme worthy, to say the least.

> **Isadora:** What are you talking about?
> 
> **Dylan:** … what are _you_ talking about?

They stare at each other in bewilderment before Isadora shakes her head and waves off the conversation.

> **Isadora:** Whatever, it doesn’t matter. Just... I should tell them, then?
> 
> **Dylan:** Yes, tell them! _[ a beat ]_ I think. I’m not really sure anymore.
> 
> **Isadora:** This conversation is giving me a headache.

They change the topic to simpler things, like how cute Asher looks today and why Isadora totally has to dress as Squidward for Halloween this year. Admittedly, it’s mainly Dylan doing the talking, but Isadora is much more at ease than she was a moment ago.

**EXT. NEW YORK STREETS - DAY**

Evan and Charlie are grabbing lunch together off campus, Evan showing him one of the typical spots a lot of the Havies like to hit up on the East Side. As they go, they discuss more in-depth some of the differences between Haverford and Adams, like how much more team-oriented they are. Then, of course, the superficial stuff -- the larger campus, uniforms…

> **Evan:** No girls.
> 
> **Charlie:** Yeah. Yep. That’s… definitely different.

Ironically, it’s right then that one of those fabled Adams girls materializes. Riley pushes out of the food spot Evan and Charlie are heading into, having picked up the lunch order for her and Lucas. Both of them seem surprised to see each other, but Riley recovers with a beam.

> **Riley:** Charlie!
> 
> **Charlie:** Riley. What are you doing here?
> 
> **Riley, playfully:** What, this town ain’t big enough for the two of us?

Riley is being her usual self, but suddenly it feels especially loud in contrast to the company Charlie is with. He clears his throat, glancing towards Evan.

> **Charlie:** I meant like, on the East Side.
> 
> **Riley:** Oh. _[ holding up the food ]_ Picking up lunch. I would’ve gone to Chubbies because it’s closer, but since Lucas works there, the more he can avoid the food _otherwise_ the better.
> 
> **Evan:** So… I’m guessing you know each other?

Riley acknowledges Evan in full for the first time, intrigued. It’s the first Haverford boy she’s met in the flesh, least of all one hanging out with Charlie. He quickly introduces them, explaining that Riley was in his class at Adams. Evan reaches to shake Riley’s hand, which she returns with bubbly enthusiasm.

> **Evan:** Ah, one from the other side.
> 
> **Riley:** Oh, I’m not really big on the whole rivalry thing. Especially now that one of my best boys is in your ranks. _[ smiling at Charlie ]_ Like I said, big town. Plenty of room for all of us.
> 
> **Evan:** That’s wholesome. Probably be better off if more people had that attitude.
> 
> **Riley:** No kidding! Charlie, where have you been hiding this one? Love to see a guy with some common sense.

Although Evan seems thoroughly charmed, Charlie is obviously uncomfortable. Unsettled by the lines between his past and present beginning to blur, still not sure which side of it he belongs on. He points out that Riley should probably get going, or else her food is going to get cold.

Riley picks up on the subtle tension in his tone, but doesn’t comment on it. She backs off, holding her composure all the while, telling Evan it was nice to meet him. Maybe their paths will cross again.

> **Evan:** Looking forward to it.

As she’s heading out, Riley reminds Charlie about the gathering she invited him to at the end of the week. Fingers crossed for a victory celebration! Charlie offers a smile and a nod, but his response is pretty non-committal.

> **Evan:** Sorry, man. Didn’t mean to cut in.
> 
> **Charlie:** Huh?
> 
> **Evan:** You got pretty stiff introducing us. I know you said you weren’t with anyone right now, but…
> 
> **Charlie:** Oh, no. No. No, Riley’s not -- we’re not like that. Haven’t been, will never be.
> 
> **Evan:** Gotcha. My bad.
> 
> **Charlie:** Don’t worry, you’re not the first one to assume. But no, it’s just… _[ with a shrug ]_ didn’t expect to run into her. That’s all.

Evan can tell it’s deeper than that, but he doesn’t prod further. He takes Charlie at his word, letting it go and guiding them into the food joint.

**INT. AAA SEMI-FINALS VENUE - LOBBY - DAY**

Elsewhere in the city, Isadora and Farkle arrive at the location their semi-final will be taking place, stepping through tall doors into the foyer. Employees buzz about. Isadora looks around, searching for someone, while Farkle is focused on a checklist of Maya’s missions for them on his phone. The top task is written in bold:

_DELIVER SETLIST & TECHIE REQUESTS. DO NOT FUCK THIS ONE UP!!!!!!!!!!!_

Farkle swipes off his notes, giving us a brief glimpse at his home screen -- a picture of Maya and Isadora pulling silly faces. He swiftly locks the phone and stuffs it in his pocket when Isadora turns to him.

> **Isadora:** I think that’s her.

He looks towards the woman she’s pointing at, who looks like a taller, older version of Isadora. She’s dressed entirely in black, with messy hair pulled back into a bun. She even has a pencil sticking out of her hair, and is shouting orders at another staff member. The HEAD TECHNICIAN of the theater looks incredibly stressed, and Farkle voices his hesitancy at bothering her while she’s in this state.

> **Isadora:** It’s not our problem she has to deal with incompetent coworkers. We have a job to do, too.

With that, she strides over to the technician and introduces herself, not bothering to offer a handshake and directly stating why they’re there. Frazzled, the woman tells them to wait here while she goes to find someone who has time to deal with them.

> **Head technician, shouting:** _[ as she walks away ]_ Who the hell told these high school kids they could come and bother me?

Isadora turns to Farkle with a satisfied smile and gestures to the bar to the side of the foyer.

> **Isadora:** I’m thirsty. Buy me a drink.
> 
> **Farkle:** _[ with a scoff ]_ What did your last slave die of?
> 
> **Isadora:** Please?

Well, who is he to refuse Isadora De La Cruz saying please? Farkle begrudgingly goes to the bar, where he orders two sodas. Isadora hops up onto a stool while Farkle leans against the bar next to her. They get to talking about the school election, with Farkle admitting that he doesn’t have a clue who to vote for. Mainly because he feels like he can barely focus on it, but also because he thinks his former blind hatred for Lucas -- which has dissipated -- is clouding his judgment from the past.

> **Isadora:** I haven’t completely made up my mind, either. 
> 
> **Farkle:** Seriously? Even though Lucas is your... best friend? Pseudo-brother? I honestly don’t understand the dynamic you two have.
> 
> **Isadora:** Sure, I’m his sister or whatever label you want to stick on it, but does that mean I automatically have to vote for him? Nepotism is generally frowned upon, you know.
> 
> **Farkle:** This hardly classifies as nepotism, but I see your point.
> 
> **Isadora:** We should all seriously consider each candidate and what they stand for, not just vote blindly based on biases we already have.
> 
> **Bartender:** Aren’t you two a bit young to be voting in the upcoming election?

Isadora and Farkle jump as the BARTENDER appears behind them, seemingly out of nowhere, with their drinks. They mutter their thanks as they take the glasses, and Farkle explains that they’re discussing their school election.

> **Bartender:** Ah. That makes more sense. I think you have a valid point, but don’t biases exist for a reason? The person must’ve done something or behaved in some way to justify your opinion, and that behavior should also inform your vote -- not just their policies.
> 
> **Farkle:** That’s true, though in my case, most of my bias was fueled by feelings of inadequacy, attention-seeking, and major sexual repression. _[ off the bartender’s stare ]_ I’m complex.

Isadora takes the randomly insightful perspective anyway, thanking the bartender once again before he nods and disappears.

> **Farkle:** I suppose we should be getting to know both candidates, anyway, considering the runner up will become Vice President.

He waits for a response, but Isadora doesn’t offer one, instead staring into the distance as she continues to ponder over the bartender's words. Farkle waves a hand in front of her, startling her out of the daze.

> **Farkle:** You okay?
> 
> **Isadora:** Oh, yeah. Just thinking.
> 
> **Farkle:** About?
> 
> **Isadora:** It’s a moral dilemma, so I’m not sure you’re the best to go to for advice. Offense intended. _[ a beat ]_ But I did already ask Dylan and he was no help... okay. Put your considerate hat on.
> 
> **Farkle:** I always have that hat on, thank you very much. Well, these days. It’s you who lacks basic human empathy and -- _[ off Isadora’s warning glare ]_ Okay, okay. What’s this moral dilemma? I’ll do my best.
> 
> **Isadora:** I know a secret about somebody. It could affect the way other people see this person, and their relationships with them. But it might also be important for people to know this fact about them… for the greater good, let’s say. Should I share the secret so that people know the truth about the person, or keep it to myself?

Farkle blows air through his lips, thinking for a moment.

> **Farkle:** If I’ve learned anything from my _très tragique_ past, it’s that when a secret isn’t yours, you shouldn’t share it.
> 
> **Isadora:** I mean, I wouldn’t be sharing it via a raging video posted on social media...
> 
> **Farkle:** Shush. My point still stands. It’s not your secret to tell, so keep your mouth shut.

Isadora nods, her mind still working hard to weigh up all the different angles of the situation.

> **Farkle:**... I didn’t mean literally. You’re still allowed to talk.

Isadora offers a weak smile, but Farkle can tell that this must be really bothering her. Before he gets the chance to offer any more words of wisdom, somebody approaches them and apologizes for the wait. They’re able to hand over the Adams semis materials, mission accomplished.

**INT. GARDNER HOME - DAY**

That afternoon, Charlie breaks one of his own conventions. ROSIE GARDNER perks up from the couch when she hears him come home, Skippy the beagle mimicking her, but both of them pause when they hear other voices congregating the entryway. Loud, _male_ chatter.

And then they’re there. Dweezil, Billy, and Evan descend upon the Gardner home, taking a look around and keeping up their conversation as if it’s no big deal. Rosie stares at them, then at Charlie, who eases slowly into the house after them. They exchange eye contact, uncertain, when Evan disrupts and prompts an introduction.

> **Charlie:** Uh, guys, this is my sister, Rosie. Rosie, this is Evan, Billy, and Dwight.
> 
> **Evan:** Hey.

Dweezil waves and Billy does too, although his “hiii” is slightly mocking. That way that teenage boys get when they’re in a pack, where it feels like they’re making fun of you even if they aren’t. Rosie doesn’t say anything, just gapes at them -- Charlie’s friends, who he never brings around. Older boys. _Cute_ older boys. It’s like she can’t tell if she’s thrilled or petrified by their presence.

> **Charlie:** Sorry, I should’ve let you know they were coming over --
> 
> **Rosie, squeaky:** Um, no, it’s fine. I’m -- I’ll let you guys…

She makes a frantic escape, fleeing the living room and dashing up the stairs. Charlie looks after her, obviously feeling bad for ambushing her, but the boys think nothing of it. Dweezil claims he’s starving, asking Charlie if he can raid the fridge while Billy crashes onto the couch and gets comfortable. Ah, the confidence of young adult boyhood.

All of them straighten up though when ELEANOR GARDNER enters with DAISY GARDNER, surprised to find her house accosted by young men. They’re wise enough to make a good impression on parents, so Dweezil pulls himself from his fridge expedition and Billy sits more properly on the couch as they introduce themselves.

> **Eleanor:** What’s all this?
> 
> **Charlie:** Uh, just some friends from school.
> 
> **Evan:** _[ holding his hand out to shake ]_ Hi, Mrs. Gardner. I’m Evan.
> 
> **Dweezil:** Dwight.
> 
> **Billy:** _[ with a charming wave ]_ Billy.
> 
> _[ Eleanor shakes Evan’s hand, obviously impressed by their manners and polished appearance. Hook, line, and sinker. ]_
> 
> **Charlie:** I hope it’s okay that we came over. We can go somewhere else --
> 
> **Eleanor:** Oh, please! It’s a pleasure to have your friends over. _[ to the boys ]_ Are you boys hungry?
> 
> **Dweezil:** Always.
> 
> **Eleanor:** Well, I’ll go ahead and whip something up. You all make yourselves comfortable!
> 
> **Billy:** Thanks, Mrs. G. Can we call you that?

Eleanor laughs, waving him off. It’s clear this is her element, that she’s excited to be able to play perfect mom and hostess so unexpectedly. Behind her, Daisy stares at them, unimpressed, before launching upstairs after Rosie. While the guests congregate in the living room and launch into conversation, Eleanor pulls Charlie into quiet conversation as she gets things out to throw together a snack.

> **Eleanor:** I like this new crowd. _[ proudly ]_ Seems like you fit right in.

Well… Charlie laughs, but it’s hollow. He glances over his shoulder at the guys then back to his mother, so contentedly making home for them. As if it’s that easy…

**INT. TURNER ACADEMY - DANCE HALL - NIGHT**

Speaking of a new crowd, Zay has made his way to the Turner mixer. He’s hesitant for a moment as he first steps into the dance hall, betraying his nerves, but he regains his confidence pretty quickly when he spots familiar faces. He finds a friend from Kossal, as well as a pal from his street dance crew, both of them greeting him enthusiastically as he jogs over to join them.

That being said, not everyone present is a friendly face. VANESSA JOHNSON is also in attendance, in a group of ballerina-type girls. He didn’t realize she was a dancer. She catches Zay’s eye and they glare at each other for a moment, before Zay offers a tight nod. She doesn’t return it, turning away.

To his relief, SIMONE WILSON is back, present to help run the mixer. She kicks things off and welcomes them all cheerfully, briefly talking about her experience as a student at Turner. She cannot recommend the experience highly enough, and it’s already a good sign that they’re here exploring the opportunity for themselves.

Then she introduces their guest panel, a couple of other Turner students, an admissions counselor, and finally, one of their most coveted instructors. This is ROSARIO GAO (30s), a sharp-eyed and intense former ballerina-turned-professor with an eye for talent but no tolerance for bullshit. She’s attractive in a way that’s intimidating, effortlessly poised and graceful, and she observes them all critically. Zay straightens up, having zeroed in on who he has to impress.

Simone explains that they’ll do a short presentation and then a round table Q&A for a majority of the evening, to give each of them the chance to ask any questions they might have about the school and admissions process to people who would know. But first, she wants to see what they’ve got, so they’re going to do a little dance warm-up. It’s low pressure, no stakes involved, but they’re _dancers_ , so they should be ready to jump in at a moment’s notice. No better way to connect with fellow artists than to hit the floor!

> **Simone:** I wanted to go for some Megan Thee Stallion, but was vetoed by the administration. _[ off their laughter ]_ So we’re gonna take it old-school here. If you’re a real dance kid, you’ll know this one in your bones.

She cues up the music, then gestures them all into a dance circle at the center of the hall.

* * *

**Song Cue ♫ ♪ “One, Two Step” as performed by Ciara feat. Missy Elliot || Instrumental**

This kind of ice breaker probably seems mortifying to most people, but for a bunch of dance nerds it’s a lot of fun! Simone takes the lead and grooves in the center of the circle to start, encouraging the prospective students like she did with the A class to get out of their heads and find their own style. Not the time to be shy or hold back -- they’ll all be scrapping to the death in a few months to get into the program, so now is the time to have fun with it!

And they do, each of the seniors present taking a moment at the center of the circle to show off their own loose skills and style. Not an audition by any means, but their first major impression. The mood is light, though, the group cheering each other on even as they’re sizing each other up. Rosario is keeping an eye out, watching for natural talent and technique as well as confidence.

She’ll definitely find it, and not just in Zay. There’s lot of passion for dance in attendance -- including Vanessa. She’s more impressive on her own than she was within the structure of “Motivation,” demonstrating natural ability and an impeccable sense of rhythm.

Somehow, the friendly competition ends up filing down to a pseudo-dance off between Zay and Vanessa. That competitive edge hasn’t fizzled out since fitness week, and it’s like the unexpected nature of running into each other has fueled it even more. They’re proving they belong there, more to one another rather than anybody else.

This might not be a bad thing, however. Rosario seems intrigued by their energy and willingness to step up, even as her expression betrays very little.

All in all, good impressions all around -- but Zay undoubtedly stood out. He claps along with the rest of them as they wrap up, Simone commending all of them for leaping into the exercise wholeheartedly. Lots of potential in that dance hall…

* * *

**INT. MATTHEWS APARTMENT - NIGHT**

Riley is also juggling potential, though she’s not nearly as carefree about it. She’s at the kitchen table pretty late, still going through opinions and polling and strategies for Lucas’s campaign and the remaining stretch of the election season. It’s coming to an end, and the time to lock down voters is running out. Still, she’s not going to sleep until she’s done everything she can.

CORY MATTHEWS notices her determination, commenting on the late evening hour as he comes into the kitchen to grab a snack. Not that 10PM is the worst hour to be up working, but it is a school night… what is she working so hard on, anyway? Riley explains the campaign strategizing briefly, that she’s looking for any other tricks they have up their sleeve or demographics they can appeal to.

> **Cory:** Have to admit, I never thought of you as having a politician’s heart.
> 
> **Riley:** Well, _I’m_ not the politician. I’m just trying to get one elected.
> 
> **Cory:** Yeah, and trying pretty hard...

It’s clear that Cory isn’t sure it’s a good thing. He doesn’t know Lucas the way she does, only knows the reputation he’s built after three years of troublemaking and disrespecting authority. And now he _wants_ authority? Seems dangerous… why is Riley trying so hard? Does she really think this is a good idea?

> **Riley:** Because I believe in him. He really cares, and his ideas are good. _[ sincere ]_ If anybody is going to change Triple A for the better, it’ll be him.

Whew… to hear Riley talk about him, it’s near impossible not to believe, too. Cory still isn’t sold, but he looks like he _almost_ might consider her perspective. He wishes her a good night, urging her not to lose too much sleep over it. But she seems determined to stay up as long as it takes, settling back into work with deep concentration.

**INT. HAVERFORD PREP - AUDITORIUM - DAY**

If it’s late to be working at home, it’s even stranger to be working at school. Yet that’s where Brandon is, running through every last detail of their semis routine. An instrumental from _Newsies_ is playing off his portable speaker.

Charlie pokes his head in, clearly amazed to find their de facto leader present so late as well. He eases his way into the auditorium, carrying a coffee and a brown to-go bag, moving quietly as to not disturb Brandon’s rehearsal.

It’s sort of mesmerizing to watch, actually. Not because Brandon is especially brilliant or talented, but because it’s like he’s playing the entire team at once, half-moving through steps and accounting for the movements of everyone else. He’s got everything mapped out in his head, knowing exactly where every piece is on the board. If he thinks of something that isn’t quite right, he takes out his phone and types a quick note, then jumps back into the run through wherever the instrumentation left off. But he’s calm even while obsessive, not betraying frustration, exhaustion, or anxiety. Cool, collected, completely in control.

On one of those note-taking reprieves, he spots Charlie. He pauses, squinting through the dark of the house to confirm it’s him.

> **Brandon, surprised:** Charles?
> 
> **Charlie:** Um, hi. Hey.
> 
> **Brandon:** What are you doing here? You realize it’s past school hours.
> 
> **Charlie:** … couldn’t I say the same to you?
> 
> **Brandon:** You could.

_But you wouldn’t._ This is Brandon’s turf -- it makes sense for him to be there whenever he pleases. Charlie clears his throat, heading down the aisle to approach the front of the stage.

> **Charlie:** The guys told me you’d be here. Probably working late. They said you get really busy during semis, making sure everything is right.
> 
> **Brandon:** My boys know me well. _[ nodding ]_ And the go-bag?
> 
> **Charlie:** Oh, yeah. Well, since you’re working so hard and everything, I figured you probably hadn’t eaten well. Or if you had, you still might need the energy boost, so…

Charlie places the offering on the edge of the stage, unassuming. Brandon seems genuinely surprised by the act of kindness. It’s weird, so oddly considerate and thoughtful in a world that is not considerate, nor thoughtful. Especially from someone who doesn’t _really_ know him all that well yet, who is just beginning to integrate into his inner circle.

> **Brandon:** That’s nice of you. Thanks.
> 
> **Charlie:** It’s nothing. _[ waving off the gratitude ]_ I used to do this kind of stuff for my classmates at Triple A all the time. Especially the ones who always worked themselves too hard.
> 
> **Brandon:** Well, you don’t need to worry about me, Charles. Rest assured, everything is under control.

Brandon comes over to join him, sitting on the edge of the stage next to where he’s standing. Charlie observes him, fascinated by his easy confidence. The way he seems so certain everything will go as he planned it, unbothered and unconcerned. It’s like Zay’s confidence, but even smoother, cold where Zay is all fire.

Brandon starts with the coffee first, taking a long sip. Charlie asks him why he’s here so late, what exactly he’s even doing. He’s doing a lot on his own, perfecting things without the team to help him. Doesn’t that get tiring? Is that even, like, possible? Why would he even want to endeavor that alone? Brandon considers the question, choosing his words carefully.

> **Brandon:** My stress doesn’t have to be the team’s stress. Just because I want to nail down everything until it’s exactly right, I don’t have to put the boys through all that to get there. Way I see it, I can work every kink out on my own, because I know that when I take it to them, they’ll listen without question.
> 
> **Charlie:** Seems like a lot to put on yourself.
> 
> **Brandon, wisely:** No sense in putting the burden on the boys when I can easily carry the load for all of us. The true test of leadership is not in whether the people deliver for you, but if you can deliver for the people.
> 
> **Charlie:** That’s profound. Who said that?
> 
> **Brandon:** Me, Brandon Rivas. You like literature, right? You can quote me on that, say you knew me when.

Charlie laughs. Brandon goes on to explain that in his opinion, brotherhood is the most important thing. Their unwavering belief and loyalty to one another. The guys trusted him to take the lead, and he’s not going to let them down. And if that involves staying late or working hard to make sure they’re as good as they can be, that they get the accolades they deserve, then he’ll do it. When it comes to his crew getting what they deserve, he’ll do whatever is necessary.

It’s faith, really. A different kind than Charlie is used to, a collective team mentality, but a belief system nonetheless. As he processes this perspective, Brandon examines him, trying to puzzle him out just as much as he is him.

> **Brandon:** It’s good to hear you’re spending more time with the boys, Charles. We’re glad you’re with us. You’re an invaluable part of the team.

Charlie blinks. He’s not used to hearing that -- especially not from classmates regarding his place in the school order. Brandon thanks him again for the nourishment but claims he really has to get back to work. The building closes to him at 11, and he wants to work out these last few kinks before dress rehearsal tomorrow.

> **Charlie:** … you want some help?

Brandon raises his eyebrows, considering the offer. Analyzing all the options, where Charlie’s piece fits on the board… then he shrugs, going to kick up his music again.

> **Brandon:** Be my guest. Since it’s half your choreography, maybe you can help identify what’s sticking in the back half of the dance break.

Charlie brightens, glad to be useful. He climbs onto the stage and joins Brandon center stage, the two of them launching into thoughtful back and forth as they walk through certain steps.

**INT. TURNER ACADEMY - DANCE HALL - NIGHT**

The mixer is wrapping up, Simone and the admissions counselor still hanging back to answer questions. Zay finishes saying goodbye to a few of his friends as well as the new people he met and clicked with, clearly having enjoyed himself from the easy smile on his face. When Simone heads out, she gives him a wave and a cheeky salute, which he returns, feeling good about having connections.

These are his people, there’s no doubt about that.

When he turns to grab his jacket from the chair he was sitting in during the panel, he discovers it’s basically down to him and Vanessa. She glances at him then looks away, keeping to herself, but Zay approaches her anyway. With his good mood, he seems willing to put bad blood behind him. He breaks the ice by commenting on her dancing ability, pointing out that even if she’s a competitive nightmare, she can definitely move. He’s got to respect her for that.

As jokingly as the statement was said, with Zay’s charm at full blast, it doesn’t land with her. She remains aloof and cold to him, sharply stating it’s so kind of him to deem her worthy of slumming it with -- the underdog from a public high school. Zay doesn’t want more bad blood, but he’s never had patience for petty bullshit.

> **Zay:** Okay, a little rivalry is fun and everything, but what’s the venom for? You don’t even know me. At least give me the chance to piss you off with my excellence before you decide to hate me forever.

Vanessa scoffs, unimpressed. She points out his vocal arrogance, despite the fact that anyone who knows Zay would know it’s sarcastic and not serious. But this does get somewhat to the root of her immediate disdain for him, after a bit more bickering -- he goes to Triple A, and everyone who goes to Triple A gets everything they want. It’s the silver spoon of arts schools, so Vanessa naturally has a grudge against everyone who has the privilege to go there. The way it feels to her, clearly, is that she’s the underdog working her ass off to achieve her dreams, and everyone at AAA is just resting on their laurels. So if he gets into Turner, and she doesn’t, it’ll be because he just skated his way in on those credits.

Obviously, even the mere _insinuation_ of this is not going to fly with Zay Babineaux. He steps to correct her right quick, all charm stomped out as she basically hit on his most sensitive spot.

> **Zay:** You can think you’re the underdog all you want, with a chip on both shoulders, but before you craft the pity narrative for your future autobiography let’s get one thing straight. I’ve worked my _ass_ off, double-time, to get where I am. You have to have talent to get into Triple A, first of all --
> 
> **Vanessa:** _[ with a scoff ]_ Well --
> 
> **Zay:** And then, if you get that far -- which I guess you didn’t -- you have to work hard every damn day. I do triple that. I hustle, I stay on the grind, and rise to the top because I kill myself to stay there. Every single thing I’ve earned, I’ve earned through _my_ determination, _hours_ of practice, _my_ blood, sweat, and tears. So you can stay hating, acting all high and mighty because you’re the underdog and everything is unfair and stacked against you -- but you can also check yourself and realize that’s not unique to you, Quincy Princess. The deck is stacked against me, too, I just break my back to come out on top in spite of it. And that’s what will get me into Turner. _[ a beat ]_ If you manage to get that stick out of your ass and bring it on your own rather than blaming everybody else, then maybe I’ll see you there.

Vanessa glares at him, furious, but she doesn’t have anything to say. And he isn’t going to wait for her response, tossing his jacket on as he marches out. Love you, Baby V, but get _fucking_ wrecked!

**INT. AAA - JACK’S OFFICE - DAY**

And like that, it’s semi-showdown day! Jack is gathering materials for Eric and Harper to take when they accompany the seniors to semis, running through a million and one reminders. Eric states that he knows every one, humoring his overwrought attention to detail, until he finally interrupts to snap him out of it. He claims it’s all going to go fine, and Jack should hardly be worried anyway. It’s semi-finals, and Adams _always_ does well at the semi-finals.

Eric comes around his desk to join him, taking his arms and trying to ground him. Jack clears his throat.

> **Jack:** List.
> 
> **Eric:** This wasn’t on the list. And I’m initiating override sequence, which gives me permission to violate the list in the case of emergency or Jack-related stress breakdown.
> 
> **Jack, sharply:** Oh? And what constitutes an emergency or Jack-related stress breakdown? Because I’m fine.
> 
> **Eric:** You’re not qualified to make that judgment. I am. I’ve got a list.

Jack makes a face at him, which Eric brushes off with a smile. He rubs his shoulders, stepping into soothing counselor mode and assuring him that nothing is going to fall apart today. It’s tough when there’s so much to keep track of at once, but one thing at a time. They’ll deal with semis, and then they’ll deal with the next thing.

Although nothing about their posture is inherently objectionable, the energy between them is far from professional. This is the partnership coming out, the way Jack holds his gaze and then nods in acquiescence. And there isn’t anything _wrong_ with the way they are now… even as they make eye contact again, hovering on the precipice of something more. A thank you kiss, maybe, a kiss that’s long overdue…

Except they’re not alone. HARRISON YANCY appears in the doorway, eyeing their odd exchange. When he clears his throat they practically jump away from each other, Yancy looking between them critically.

> **Yancy:** Hope I’m not interrupting anything, gentlemen…

Jack waves off the comment, assuring him nothing of the sort. But that’s about all he can manage, Eric having to step in and explain that they were just going over the last-minute details for semi-finals today. He’s just about to head out with the A class to the venue. In fact, he really should be going…

Yancy wishes him luck for the seniors as he departs, then turns his focus back to Jack.

> **Yancy:** Not going along to support them, Jackson?
> 
> **Jack:** As much as I’d like to be there, I’ve got plenty more students here who need a principal. I’ve got work to do.
> 
> **Yancy:** Yes… lots of work to be done, clearly…

Jack asks if there’s a reason he came by, to which Yancy nods. He’s simply informing him that the grant he requested from the school board wasn’t approved -- due to his current observational period, they don’t exactly feel comfortable offering him more money. Jack frowns.

> **Jack:** It’s not for my initiatives. One of the presidential candidates is hoping to fund more scholarships.
> 
> **Yancy:** Oh, I’m well aware of Mister Friar’s campaign promises. Far reaching, they are… some might say overreaching. It seems a bit presumptuous to seek out resources for such a promise when said candidate hasn’t even been elected yet.
> 
> **Jack:** Simply trying to be proactive. If Miss Fresco had more concrete initiatives, I would be supporting those just the same.
> 
> **Yancy:** Either way, you won’t be getting any funding from the board on this matter. Even if Mister Friar is chosen as the next student body president, he will have to find the funding for his little scholarship plan elsewhere.

Seeing as that’s all the news he had to share, Yancy backs off, but then doubles back with another thought.

> **Yancy:** Word of advice, Hunter, to mind your step. You are still under observation. It’s not just the school we’re assessing for competency. The choices you make do leave an impression, whether you intend them to or not.

It’s not clear what Yancy is highlighting with the comment -- his dynamic with Lucas, his attempts to make change at the school, whatever it was he just witnessed between him and Eric -- but it’s clear it’s a warning. And from the tone of it, it doesn’t feel like a very friendly warning.

Yancy curtly wishes him luck with the many events of this week, then leaves him to ponder. Jack lets out an exhale, slamming his agenda closed on his desk for something to take his frustration out on.

> **Maya, pre-lap:** Get it together, bitches! This is not amateur hour!

**INT. AAA SEMI-FINALS VENUE - DRESSING ROOM HALL - DAY**

The chaos of competition is in the air, the A class getting into their costumes and prepping hair and make-up as Maya marches around, barking orders. She’s already ready to go, looking glamorous with glittery eye make-up and her sleek blonde hair tied back in a bun. The Adams costumes are reminiscent of more grungy, work-out type vibes, cargo pants and crop tops with mesh material. There are variations on material where their right sleeves are glossy and long while the other sleeve is cropped at the shoulder -- Maya’s is sleek crimson.

She’s unimpressed when Zay stumbles through the door to the dressing rooms, running a few minutes late. They lock eyes, and then she rolls hers, spinning on her heel to continue her tirade of preparation. Zay jogs after her, since he has to check-in with her.

> **Maya:** Well, well, well. Look who finally made it.
> 
> **Zay:** I’m like ten minutes late.
> 
> **Maya:** And the future belongs to those who are on time. But it’s fine, I get it. You must be tired after last night. Did you have fun showing off?
> 
> **Zay:** Okay, you can fuck right off. I’m here, and I’m ready to go. Just check me off so I can go get ready and bring this home for all of us.

No need to acknowledge the slight stiffness in his muscles and how he’s still a bit tender on his ankle. He’ll walk it off before they get on stage, and Riley’s going to walk them all through stretches in a few. Maya glares at him, diva to diva, then snippily checks his name off on her clipboard without breaking eye contact.

As Zay marches off to go get changed, he almost runs into YINDRA AMINO. The two of them exchange a look, then she moves past him, not commenting. This stings for Zay, but he shrugs it off for now.

Riley emerges from the girls dressing room, in the same ensemble as Maya, only her pop of color is rose gold. The two of them make their way through the doors…

**INT. AAA SEMI-FINALS VENUE - BACKSTAGE - DAY**

And into the darkness of the wings, where they convene with Lucas. He’s dressed in all black and got a complimentary headset around his neck as their team stage manager. The three of them begin to take stock of whether they’re ready to go, what they have left to do to prep. When Riley tries to bring up the election and discuss the prospect of tomorrow, Maya cuts her off.

> **Maya:** Uh-uh. No campaign talk today. Focus -- show. Focus -- semis. We’ll come back to politics later.
> 
> **Riley:** The election is tomorrow --
> 
> **Maya:** And semis are today. No poli-talk. Period.

Well, hard to argue with that. Riley and Lucas exchange a look, and he shrugs it off. _No point in fighting it._

**INT. HAVERFORD SEMIS VENUE - ATRIUM - DAY**

Across town, the East Side delegation is convening for their own semi-finals. And that’s where we find most of the techie boys, Nate and Dave leading the way inside for their covert spy operations. Jeff remains with the A class to work the lights on their setlist.

Dylan and Asher are lagging behind. It’s clear Dylan is taking this assignment _very_ seriously. He’s assumed the persona of a Haverford boy to blend in, wearing a blazer and tie and hair slicked back like a mobster. Asher keeps eyeing him, torn between finding the disguise ridiculous and strangely compelling.

> **Asher:** For the hundredth time, you did not have to dress up. We’re not undercover.
> 
> **Dylan:** I’m not taking any chances. To infiltrate the enemy, you have to _know_ the enemy. And besides, better to protect our identities if we can help it. I’m doing this for you, you know. _Your_ safety.

Asher shakes his head. As if on cue, a couple of giggly underclassmen from a different school approach them, nervously greeting Dylan.

> **Girl:** You’re Dylan Orlando. From Dylan Orlando Vlogs!
> 
> **Dylan:** _[ breaking his persona immediately, with a bright smile ]_ Oh, yeah, hi!

Well, that lasted all of five seconds. The girls ask if they can take a picture with him and Dylan happily obliges, leaning in for a selfie and throwing up a peace sign. Asher watches the exchange, amused, still shaking his head.

When the girls thank him and walk away, Dylan turns to look at his boyfriend. He shrugs.

> **Dylan:** What can I say? I’m a known entity.
> 
> **Asher:** One of a kind, all right…

Their photo op detour has given time for Haverford to learn of their presence, Billy and Dweezil coming to divert their entrance. They stand smugly like bouncers in the midst of the lobby, still in their uniforms, intercepting Dylan and Asher.

> **Dweezil:** Well, look what the flea-infested West Side cat dragged in.
> 
> **Asher:** _Flea-infested_? I’m not the twink wearing polyester.
> 
> **Billy:** Are you guys lost? Your conference is on the other side of town. _[ to Dylan ]_ I mean, I know rumor has it you’re not the sharpest crayon in the box --
> 
> **Asher:** You want to say that again?
> 
> **Dylan:** Easy, Bird Bones. They know we have every right to be here. We’ve got nothing to hide.
> 
> **Dweezil:** That why you’re dressed like a knock-off wannabe?
> 
> **Billy:** Isn’t it a little shady to come scout out the competition? _[ cockily ]_ Are you all really that worried?
> 
> **Dylan:** Maybe we just came to support an old friend.
> 
> **Dweezil:** Enough to risk violating showdown rules? It’s not exactly smiled upon to spy on your competitors.

At this, Asher scoffs out a haughty little laugh. Oh, Dweezil. Ha, ha, ha… you dumb bitch.

> **Asher:** _Actually_ , I’ve read the rule book, and it’s fully permitted. There’s no explicit rule about schools viewing other competition sets. Cross attendance isn’t banned. The only specific mention of this “spying” you might be implying is in regards to video recording, which according to page 8, subsection E, line 17, is only non-permitted in terms of utilizing footage of a competitor’s setlist to improve or modify your own in direct competition. So if you’re going to reach for a vague intimidation tactic, you’re going to have to do more research.
> 
> _[ Dweezil and Billy exchange a disgruntled look. Dylan grins in satisfaction at Asher’s killer nerd delivery, obviously proud. He clicks his tongue, crossing his arms. ]_
> 
> **Dylan:** Yeah, that’s right. He reads.
> 
> **Asher:** Now, if you’ll excuse us --

Dylan throws his arm around Asher’s shoulder, the two of them sauntering past them with blatant disregard for their attempts to strong-arm them. Billy and Dweezil roll their eyes, retreating backstage to get ready. Dylan glances over his shoulder to make sure they’re gone, then leans closer to Asher in excitement.

> **Dylan:** That was literally so hot. It’s like I’m dating a crime lord who moonlights as a librarian. Will you make out with me later even if I’m still dressed like this?

Asher glances at him, looking him over. Honestly, Dyl, the disguise isn’t _hurting_ your case.

> **Asher, faux detached:** We’ll discuss.

Yeah, that’s a yes. Dylan does a small victory dance, Asher leading the way into the auditorium for the showdown.

**INT. AAA SEMI-FINALS VENUE - DRESSING ROOM - DAY**

Isadora heads to the dressing room to check the status of the performers, but hesitates by the doorway when she notices Chai and Darby alone inside. Chai does Darby’s makeup as they chat.

> **Chai:** While we’re alone, I just wanted to thank you for how kind you’ve been to me since I came back. It hasn’t exactly been an easy time, so I’m really grateful. Thank you.

Darby reacts by tearing up and pulling Chai into a hug. Isadora sighs. Perhaps she’s ignored Chai’s feelings and how the secret would impact her throughout all of her deliberation. Chai and Darby part, but Darby grabs hold of Chai’s hand and squeezes it.

> **Darby:** You’re one of my best friends, Chai. I know you’ve missed a lot, but I’m genuinely so glad that you’re back. It wasn’t the same without you.
> 
> **Chai:** I know I left to get away from all of that petty, melodramatic energy that was thriving during sophomore year, but it feels like I’ve jumped right back into it. This whole election is just... it’s a lot to deal with.
> 
> **Darby, decisively:** Well, you have my vote.
> 
> **Chai:** _[ with a smile ]_ I appreciate it. Come on, it’s almost curtain.

Chai leads Darby out of the dressing room. Isadora freezes, eyes going wide like a deer caught in the headlights. Chai gives her a questioning look as she passes. Isadora opens her mouth to offer an explanation, but before she can say anything, Farkle rushes by and tells them it’s time. They’re taking the stage. All of them move quickly to follow him.

**INT. AAA SEMI-FINALS VENUE - AUDITORIUM - DAY**

The stage is dark, the curtains closed between setlists. The A class is taking their place on the stage in formation, Riley one of the last to jog out. Lucas stops her before she hits the stage, gently taking her arm and whispering for her to break a leg.

She beams, standing on her toes to give him a quick kiss. Then she’s weaving through the silhouettes of her classmates, finding her spot and facing the back of the stage. She hits her position, the curtain slowly rising as the announcer for the competition introduces the performers from Adams Academy of the Arts.

The lights come up, ringing Riley in a bright glow. As the opening horns of “4 Minutes” blare…

**INT. HAVERFORD SEMI-FINALS VENUE - DRESSING ROOM - DAY**

The Haverford boys are gathering backstage, all dressed and ready to go. Their costumes are both more traditional yet more glitzy than Adams, a glossier, edged-up version of the classic _Newsies_ look. Vests made of shiny, durable fabric, some boys wearing button-downs underneath while others go with the tank look to add some variety. Charlie is one of the ones just with a vest, modeled somewhere between [this Newsies style](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/58/e3/e6/58e3e60470ab2188c187288520616a93.jpg) and Luke’s [final performance tux](https://netflix.homeofthenutty.com/albums/JulieAndThePhantoms/Season%201/09/JATP9_1164.jpg) in _Julie and the Phantoms_.

Needless to say, arms. They look damn good.

Brandon enters and draws them all in for a show circle, the brotherhood coming together and throwing their arms around each other. Brandon emphasizes how hard they’ve all worked, the time and effort they’ve put in, the sheer talent they’ve got assembled in their ranks. This is in the bag, as it always is. They’ve just got to go out there and take it.

> **Dweezil:** Love you, man. You made us our best.

The rest of the boys whoop and holler in agreement, patting Brandon on the back. He accepts the praise graciously, then eyes Charlie across the circle. He’s grinning at the rest of them, absorbed in the excitement of being a part of something again.

Brandon considers, then throws a major curveball.

> **Brandon:** Charles. _[ once he looks at him ]_ You take the lead on _Newsies_.

Um, well, _that’s_ an unexpected change of plans. Charlie stares, levity gone, jaw dropped open.

> **Charlie, stunned:** What?
> 
> **Brandon:** You take frontman on “Seize the Day.” You’re my understudy, you know the moves. You basically choreographed most of it. And you helped me polish it up, so I know you’ve got it. _[ raising his eyebrows ]_ Can you handle it?

All eyes are on Charlie, waiting to see how he reacts to this sudden act of charity. It’s both a gift and a challenge, almost like an initiation. The invitation for Charlie to take center stage, to lead, when all he’s done his entire life is play support in the background. At Adams, after all, he was rarely even given the chance to try.

Whatever Brandon’s motives are, the offer seems sincere. Charlie processes, runs through every potential disaster in his head… and then nods. Determined.

> **Charlie:** I can handle it.

The boys rally around him, congratulating him on the upgrade. Brandon claims they all heard him, so they know to follow Charlie’s lead on the opener. Just swap the two of them in their heads. Otherwise, it’s nothing but the beat.

> **Brandon:** Now let’s go kick some ass.

The Havies erupt into cheers, jostling each other and bumping shoulders as they stampede towards the door to head backstage.

**INT. HAVERFORD SEMI-FINALS VENUE - AUDITORIUM - DAY**

Dylan, Asher, Nate, and Dave have taken their seats, waiting for the next setlist to begin. Dave is munching on a handful of gummy bears, Nate shaking his head.

> **Nate:** Did you bring those specifically for this occasion?
> 
> **Dave:** No? I always have gummy bears in my pocket.
> 
> **Dylan:** The wisest man among us.

The lights dim, signaling the next performance, so Asher leans over to shush them. The announcer comes on and introduces the next competitor, Haverford Preparatory Academy. A hush falls over the crowd as the lights go down fully, curtain rising.

The deceptively gentle opening orchestration of “Seize the Day” floats in, launching us into our semi-finals sequence.

* * *

**Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Seize the Day” as performed by _Newsies_ Original Broadway Cast || Performed by Haverford Seniors**

Stage lights illuminate Charlie, front and center as he takes the opening verse. The shadows of his teammates can be seen in the darkness behind him, just barely, waiting to be illuminated. The techie boys seem surprised to see him right from the get-go -- he so rarely takes the lead.

But this time he is, and the impact of that is only just beginning to become apparent. His vocals are soft at the start, but as the other Haverford boys layer in over the course of the intro and the lights gradually reveal their ranks, he gains more confidence. By the time they’re at full power, and Charlie delivers the final line to truly throw them into the number, he does it with blistering ferocity.

_And the strike starts right damn now!_

From there, the Haverford opening number to their set is a spectacle of energy, harmony, and dance. That’s the key, dance, and it’s obvious exactly why Brandon strategically put Charlie at the head of it. The boys aren’t quite as talented and proficient as the typical cast of _Newsies_ is, but they hold their own with the choreography, and there’s more than enough jumps, spins, and neat tricks to win them favor (including a split leap from Charlie and a back handspring from Dweezil).

It’s the perfect performance to put out first, because it demonstrates their effectiveness as a group as well as their unique individuality. There’s enough variety in the dance break to allow each member of the team their moment to shine, presenting as an endearing group of talented buddies, but then they deliver synced choreography and vocal harmonies with expert precision.

And it certainly does as intended. The audience is cheering along with each trick, including emphatic applause -- well deserved -- for Charlie’s 8 fouette turns. When he lands the spin and the rest of the boys come forward to join him again, Charlie is right at the center of it all as they round out the performance.

_One for all and all… for one!_

Charlie raises his arm in the air, striking his final pose. He seems alight, energized, confident in a way we’ve never really seen before. The audience erupts into applause, Charlie only getting to take it all in with a breathless grin for a moment before they have to launch into the next piece.

In the audience, the techie boys clap along, but they seem more reluctant. Whatever they were expecting from Haverford, and from Charlie, it wasn’t _that_. Dylan and Asher exchange nervous eye contact.

* * *

**INT. AAA SEMI-FINALS VENUE - AUDITORIUM - DAY**

But they’re not the only one earning high praise from the audience. The crowd at the West Side competition is equally enthusiastic about Adams, who just wrapped up their rendition of “4 Minutes.” We’re transitioning between the two setlists, getting just enough of a taste of what both schools have up their sleeves without watching the full competition performances.

And, tellingly, Adams is giving a much different experience than the classic, strategic collective of Haverford.

* * *

**Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Rain On Me” as performed by Lady Gaga & Ariana Grande || Performed by AAA Seniors**

For AAA, the oomph is in their power players, showstopping glamor, and the obvious influence of the divas. Maya takes the main vocals, Yindra providing the Ariana featured backing.

This number in their set is more dedicated to dancing anyway, where it’s clear they’re relying on Zay to lead the movement. He stays front and center while the rest of the A class harmonizes and follows his lead behind him in formation on the stage. It’s a strategic move, albeit not very ensemble-focused, because there’s no denying that Zay is a compelling dancer. And he’s in top form, working hard as promised, arguably the standout of the number.

The performance is high energy for sure, and they look good. Maya’s vocals are always spectacular, and the technical elements are competent if pretty underserved. The only thing that doesn’t quite sit right is that, unlike Haverford’s strategy, the display doesn’t exactly _feel_ like the A class. It’s dazzling and proficient without a doubt, but it doesn’t have any of their eccentricities.

Still, it’s a damn good pop showing. They earn their applause just like Haverford… which fades us back to...

* * *

**INT. HAVERFORD SEMI-FINALS VENUE - AUDITORIUM - DAY**

Great fanfare as Haverford wraps up their second number, about to bring down the house with their closer. Nate leans over to the others, shrugging and projecting aloofness.

> **Nate:** So they’re like, good. Whatever. We’re good, too.
> 
> **Asher:** Yeah.
> 
> **Dylan:** For sure.
> 
> **Dave, dazed:** They… flip…

Yes, they sure did, Dave. And they’re not done yet. For their final number, Brandon takes front and center, leading us into the finale.

* * *

**Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Brotherhood of Man” as performed by _How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying_ DanRad Broadway Cast || Performed by Haverford Seniors**

Whereas “Seize the Day” was about the parts that make up the whole, “Brotherhood of Man” is a shining example of exactly that -- the brotherhood. Haverford performing as one unified entity is a monster, a behemoth of harmonies, collaboration, and movement. And the lyrics are so perfectly matched to their whole _thing_ , it’s almost eerie. Brandon leads the charge as the Daniel Radcliffe role, delivering his vocals with wit and a winning charm. When the Miss Jones vocals come into it 3 and half minutes in, Dweezil takes them on, demonstrating impressive skill of his falsetto since they don’t have any girls.

But what really pushes it over the top is the commitment. Each Havie is completely dedicated to the performance, energized and enthusiastic, and it’s a sight to watch them do everything like a well-oiled machine. And now Charlie is a cog in that machinery, beaming and buying into the brotherhood, contributing to their spectacular showing. As strange as it is, it’s nice too -- nice to see him so invested and at place in a performance after drifting for so long.

So we milk the performance for all it’s worth, a damning, daunting display of just what Haverford is capable of. Especially with Charlie in their ranks, now their dance ace in the hole. There’s something inexplicably exhilarating about it all, hard to look away from. When they round out the performance and hit the last note with a resounding stomp of their feet, they drop their heads to look at the floor and the lights go down, shrouding them in darkness as the audience explodes into applause.

* * *

It’s a standing ovation… except for the techie boys. They’re too stunned to move, staring at the stage where they just witnessed a massacre with jaws hanging open. We pan from Asher to Dylan to Nate, all wearing matching expressions of shock. The only one who doesn’t seem is disturbed is Dave, who is clapping along with a pleasant, unbothered smile on his face. That is, until he looks and sees their faces, slowly losing his smile.

Uh-oh.

**INT. AAA SEMI-FINALS VENUE - DRESSING ROOM HALL - DAY**

The good news is, Adams had a good showing, too. They burst in from the wings after the winners are announced, Maya touting the semi-finals trophy over her head as they flood the hall in excitement.

> **Maya:** Like there was even a question!

Although not one for celebrations, even Lucas seems enthused as he trails out after the performers. That’s when his phone rings. He checks the caller ID, picking up.

> **Lucas:** Hello? How was --

**EXT. HAVERFORD SEMI-FINALS VENUE - DAY**

Dylan and Asher are in hysterics, passing the phone back and forth and talking so fast they’re almost unintelligible. They’re clearly in a tizzy after what they just witnessed.

> **Asher:** THEY WERE SO GOOD --
> 
> **Dylan:** THERE WAS FLIPPING --
> 
> **Asher:** ARMS --
> 
> **Dylan:** COMPLICATED DANCING --
> 
> **Asher:** AND HARMONIES --
> 
> **Dylan:** AND _CHARLIE_ \--
> 
> **Asher:** CHARLIE?!
> 
> **Dylan:** CUTE BOYS FLIPPING!!

**INT. AAA SEMI-FINALS VENUE - DRESSING ROOM HALL - DAY**

Lucas holds the phone away from his ear, cringing. He frowns, confused, putting them on speaker and trying to make out what the hell they’re saying.

> **Lucas:** Whoa, whoa, slow down! I can’t understand a word you’re saying. What --
> 
> **Asher/Dylan, panicked:** _[ over speaker ]_ WE’RE SO FUCKED!!!

Lucas winces. That can’t be good. But he’s distracted when Riley comes up and hugs him from behind, surprising him and still high on the joy from their victory. Lucas quickly hangs up on Asher and Dylan, cutting off their frantic rambling.

> **Riley:** We did it! One victory down.
> 
> **Lucas:** Sure did. You were great.
> 
> **Riley:** Thank you. And it’s the first of _many_ victories this week, I just know it. _[ with a smile ]_ Was that Asher and Dylan? How was Haverford?

He doesn’t want to take the air out of her tires just yet. So Lucas simply smiles, one just a shade off from (: , already internally scheming how he’s going to address this new problem so she doesn’t have to.

**INT. HAVERFORD SEMI-FINALS VENUE - DRESSING ROOM - DAY**

The Havies are enjoying a victory of their own, Evan toting their semis trophy as they round up and jostle each other around in that weird way boys do to celebrate. Billy throws his arm around Charlie and shakes him proudly, Charlie seeming a bit overwhelmed but equally invigorated by the win and the revelry. Dweezil is lifted into the air by a couple of the boys, now holding the trophy, which he holds over his head.

> **Dweezil:** Victory party at mine!

Now _that’s_ a reason to cheer! The boys do just that, starting to gather their things and head out to celebrate. Charlie soaks in the moment, surrounded by joy and camaraderie, before catching Brandon’s attention. They talk over the din of their classmates.

> **Charlie:** Congrats, leader.
> 
> **Brandon:** Well, this time, you led, too.

Oh, yeah. In some ways, he did. Charlie lets that sink in, unfamiliar with the feeling.

> **Charlie:** You going to the party?
> 
> **Brandon:** Nah. Gotta start tweaking for finals if we wanna ride this wave to the end. _[ patting his shoulder ]_ Good job, Charles. Nice to have you as our secret weapon.

That’s something Charlie has never been called. He’s a bit stunned by it as Brandon stealthily makes his exit, disappearing into the exodus of Haverford boys.

As the room starts to clear out, Evan hangs back to catch a word with Charlie. He congratulates him on stepping up to the plate and leading the _Newsies_ number -- he definitely rose to the occasion, and he’s probably part of the reason they made such a good impression. Charlie waves off the praise, not sure how to accept it. There’s a beat, then Evan changes the subject, obviously bringing up what he meant to say this whole time.

> **Evan:** So, listen. I’ve been meaning to ask you something…

Suddenly, Charlie tenses up. There’s a definitive _vibe_ in Evan’s tone, one that’s vaguely familiar, and in an instant he replays every interaction they’ve had up to this point in his head on fast forward. He wasn’t picking up any vibes earlier… but Evan _has_ been nice to him, the nicest since he showed up at Haverford. They get along well, and he did help him with tutoring. He supposes it wouldn’t be completely out of nowhere, but…

> **Charlie:** Oh, uh… hm. I’m flattered, Evan, seriously, but it’s… it’s just not a great time for me right now…

Evan blinks at him, confused. Thinking perhaps the moment needs clarification, he offers a gentle explanation.

> **Evan:** … I’m straight.

Oop. _Yikes_! Charlie panics for a split second, then laughs. A forced laugh, like the most forced, uncomfortable laugh in the history of young gays -- though if you didn’t know Charlie all that well, you wouldn’t be able to tell. He scrambles to cover, aiming for playful as he scoffs through more stilted laughter.

> **Charlie:** _[ as if it’s obvious ]_ Me -- me too! Like, duh. Ha ha. I was just kidding! It was just a joke.
> 
> **Evan:** _[ with a slow nod ]_ Right. For sure. Ha ha.
> 
> **Charlie:** Totally a joke. Gotcha. Ha ha ha. _[ painfully ]_ So, um, you had a question?
> 
> **Evan:** Yeah. So… what’s the deal with Riley?

Oh. So _that’s_ where the tone came from. Charlie struggles to process the whiplash, at least calming down enough from his gay panic to speak normally.

> **Charlie:** Riley?
> 
> **Evan:** Yeah. I know _you’re_ not into her, but is she free? She seems nice, and damn cute. She’s got the cutest brown eyes I’ve ever seen. I know it might be sacrilegious to consider dating the enemy, but I mean, she did say she wasn’t into the rivalry, so… what’s hotter than a forbidden romance, right?

Boy, does Charlie know a thing or two about that. He swallows, frowning slightly.

> **Charlie:** Oh. Uh… yeah, no, she’s got a boyfriend. They’re pretty serious.
> 
> **Evan:** Huh. Bummer. _[ a beat ]_ Well, if that ever changes, you let me know?
> 
> **Charlie:** Sure. For sure. I’ll do that.
> 
> **Evan:** Cool. Well, I’ll see you at Dweez’s. Again, super killer job out there.

Evan starts to back off, then laughs to himself. He nods, appreciating Charlie’s “joke” a minute too late.

> **Evan:** You were really gonna reject me, huh… you’re funny, Charlie. Good one.
> 
> **Charlie:** _[ more stilted laughter ]_ Ha ha. That’s me.

Charlie maintains the practiced smile until Evan is gone, leaving him alone. Then he lets out an enormous exhale, grimacing and hiding his face in his hands.

**INT. AAA - ATRIUM - DAY**

Upon their return to AAA as victors, Maya and Farkle are holding court in the atrium with the semi-finals trophy on display. A bunch of underclassmen are gathered around, asking them what it was like and expressing how excited they are that they get to see the final showdown competition. Maya is really playing up the glamor and glory, basking in the glow when a bunch of the freshmen say they want to be just like her and Farkle when they’re seniors.

Farkle, on the other hand, is more grounded, and actually engaging in meaningful conversation. He fields compliments, too, but he’s more intrigued by when the underclassmen ask him for his opinion on the election tomorrow. Who is he planning on voting for? They want to hear what he has to say about the choice -- unideal as it is -- before they finalize their vote.

Oh. Turns out Zay was right. Farkle lets this realization wash over him, that people do actually look up to him whether he wants that influence or not… or thinks he deserves it.

**INT. AAA - BOYS DRESSING ROOM - DAY**

Zay and Nigel are putting away the costumes from semis, arranging them on the rack so they’re prepped for finals. The work is quieter than it normally would be between them, after everything at Chai’s party, but it doesn’t feel antagonistic. That’s not really Nigel’s speed, and he seems content to just let it go and move on.

But Zay isn’t. As Nigel claims he’s going to go ask Jade if she needs any more help, he calls after him, trying to get one last word in before he disappears.

> **Zay:** Hey, Nige! _[ when he stops ]_ I’m sorry about the other night. When I said all that shit to you. That wasn’t cool, and I know I’ve been acting like a major ass. I’m sorry you’ve had to put up with it.
> 
> **Nigel:** _[ with a shrug ]_ It’s cool. I know you didn’t mean it. You might have to grovel a little more with Yindra, because you know how she is --
> 
> **Zay:** Yeah. Birds of a feather.
> 
> **Nigel:** But I’m good. I know this year hasn’t been… it’s not smooth-sailing, with the future hanging over us and all that. And it’s weird, with Charlie being gone. I know you guys were really close.

Zay swallows the hurt, that sting that flares up every time someone brings him up. That one that won’t seem to heal. But he nods, confirming the sentiment.

> **Nigel:** You know I’m here for you, though. I can’t dance like him, or anything --
> 
> **Zay:** _[ with a laugh ]_ Yeah, no need for that.
> 
> **Nigel:** But we’re good, man. No worries. And if you need anything, all you gotta do is hit me up.

_Now_ we’re talking about brotherhood. Zay seems relieved, grateful for the reassurance. He reaches out and the two of them bump fists, which switches into a brief, quick secret handshake, then Nigel salutes him before heading out. Zay lets out a sigh… not totally fixed, but at least he’s getting somewhere…

**INT. MINKUS HOME - NIGHT**

Farkle has a brief reprieve now that semis are done, before the rush of finals prep begins. He’s reading the same play as before… only he’s not really reading. He’s on the couch but staring at the wall, lost in thought. Getting lost in his head, the same way he did last year.

He doesn’t snap out of it until the front door opens, STUART MINKUS entering and greeting him cheerfully. He blinks out of his daze, returning the hello. Stuart checks out what he’s reading and chats with him a bit about it, noticing his low mood. He asks if everything is okay. Did semis go well?

> **Farkle:** No, no. It’s all good. Semis was great, we won.
> 
> **Stuart:** Oh, that’s wonderful! Congratulations.
> 
> **Farkle:** Yeah, yeah it is.
> 
> **Stuart:** … so, then, anything else? _[ a beat ]_ I’m not trying to pry, you just seem a bit…
> 
> **Farkle:** Come on, dad. I’m fine. You don’t have to worry. _[ reasonably ]_ I’m on medication, we’re treating it. And things are good -- way better than last year. I’ve got friends, multiple paths for the future, and now I’m a champion. And if it makes you feel better, remember I have therapy just like usual on Monday.
> 
> **Stuart:** … that does help, thank you. But make sure to tell your therapist about this, okay? I’m holding you to that.
> 
> **Farkle:** Don’t know what “this” is, but sure, dad. Will do.

Stuart makes a face at his sarcastic tone, then ruffles his hair. Once he retreats back to his office to unload, Farkle’s easy expression falters somewhat. Things are good… so why is he down in the trenches again?

He sighs, shaking his head. Trying to shake off the melancholy. Then he focuses back on his reading, pushing through it.

**INT. HAVERFORD PREP - AUDITORIUM - NIGHT**

Brandon is back to work on the stage that evening, but he’s not focused on the run-through. The instrumental is playing on his phone but he’s focused on a text thread. He’s typing a response, but the glimpse we can see of the reply from the other person simply says _“it’ll take a couple weeks.”_

He doesn’t seem pleased with that response, but still cool and collected. He pauses on his reply when he hears someone enter the auditorium, lifting this gaze.

> **Brandon:** Back again, Charles?

But no. It’s not Charlie. Lucas is marching into the auditorium, cautious in the unfamiliar territory but there with purpose. The reason is a mystery to Brandon, though, who raises his eyebrows in interest and locks his phone.

> **Brandon:** Well, well, well. If it isn’t the infamous Lucas James Friar. What an unexpected surprise. _[ a beat ]_ I don’t have to ask how you got in the building. Let yourself in, I’m sure.
> 
> **Lucas:** Don’t worry, I’ll make this brief. I think if I stand in this pretention for too long, I’ll get blood poisoning.

Brandon asks what he’s doing there as Lucas makes his way down to the front of the house, looking up at him. Even though he’s in the disadvantaged position, Lucas speaks without hesitation. He’s a good contender for Brandon, his old Techie Revolution ringleader a strong match for his de facto leader vibe.

Based on what Lucas heard from his scouts, it sounds like Haverford had an excellent show this evening. So did Adams, of course, so it seems like they’re headed right for showdown. Lucas claims that he knows how important winning senior showdown is for Adams this year, both to the performers and for the school. He’s sure Haverford will put up a good fight, but… he would hate for things to get ugly. Brandon scoffs, lightly amused.

> **Brandon:** You threatening me, Friar?

Lucas doesn’t confirm or deny anything, but his tone was pretty hard to misinterpret. Unfortunately, though, it doesn’t have the desired effect on Brandon.

> **Brandon:** Because if you _were_ , that would be a bit surprising. Considering, as I understand it, you’re running for office. It would be… unfortunate, wouldn’t it, if it got around the day before elections that you were attempting to shake down a rival? _[ a beat ]_ Especially if that shake down fails.
> 
> **Lucas:** That doesn’t… you wouldn’t do that. Least of all before tomorrow morning.
> 
> **Brandon:** Word travels fast these days. Though I guess you wouldn’t know that, since you have a smartphone from the 2000s. But wouldn’t matter anyway. Scandal can taint anything -- even a victor.
> 
> **Lucas:** I wasn’t --
> 
> **Brandon:** And then it follows you. Sure, might not tank your election chances -- how about your college prospects? You’re trying to go to vet school, right?
> 
> **Lucas:** How did you --
> 
> **Brandon:** Word travels fast, Friar. You think you’re invisible, but don’t fool yourself. We all leave our mark in one way or another.

Lucas frowns. It seems he might have been in over his head with this hasty attempt to lower the stress on the A class -- Brandon is craftier than he realized. Two steps ahead, playing every piece on the board.

> **Brandon:** I get the instinct. You want to make it easy on them. It hurts to see your team lose. Especially when you’re hemorrhaging classmates -- loyalty isn’t very strong at Adams, is it? Competing against one another for silly, meaningless things, defecting to superior schools… surely your spies informed you how good Charles was today? Rest easy, he’s more than comfortable with us now. One of the boys.

Brandon wraps up his conclusion with just a hint of condescension, throwing Lucas’s words back to him. He shouldn’t waste his breath or try to shake them down, because they’re going to win, and they all know it. Haverford is going to beat them, like they do every year, and no amount of shaking down or thinly veiled intimidation is going to change that. Like his feeble election attempt, he can sure try to change history… but that rarely works. And, if not, well…

> **Brandon:** Would hate for things to get ugly.

The conversation is over. Lucas looks pissed, but also pretty sheepish. Brandon spins away from him, dismissive, claiming that since he showed himself in, he can show himself out.

**INT. SVORSKI’S COFFEE - NIGHT**

The coffee shop is filled with customers, the atmosphere cozy and warm. Chai sits at a table by herself, a mug of steaming tea in front of her. She anxiously taps her fingers on the table as she waits, keeping an eye on the line of the people at the counter -- particularly on Isadora. The cashier hands her a drink, and she walks over to Chai’s table and sits down.

> **Isadora:** Thank you for meeting with me.
> 
> **Chai:** _[ trying to lighten the mood ]_ This feels so formal. You know, if you wanted to ask me more about policies, you could’ve just come by my campaign table at lunch.
> 
> **Isadora:** I’m not going to beat the bush here --
> 
> **Chai:** It’s beat _around_ the...
> 
> **Isadora:** I know that you ran the Confessions page.
> 
> **Chai, stunned:** W-what? Are you... are you joking? You just made that up, right?   
> 
> 
> **Isadora:** You literally told me the other night, so don’t even bother. I was drunk, but not that far gone.

Chai puts her head in her hands, regretting every single choice she’s ever made.

> **Chai, mumbled:** That’s why you’ve been acting so weird.
> 
> **Isadora:** I’ve weighed up all my options, considered it from all angles, and come to a decision.

Chai peeks between her fingers as Isadora pauses for dramatic effect.

> **Isadora:** I won’t rat you out.
> 
> **Chai:** _[ with a sigh of relief ]_ Thank you. Thank you so much. You have no idea --
> 
> **Isadora:** Look. I don’t think it’s fair to expose something like this so close to the election, but that doesn’t mean I think it should always remain a secret. _[ a beat ]_ I’m going to leave it in your hands, though. If you’ve truly changed for the better, you’ll make the best decision for everybody, not just you. And I do want to believe you’ve changed. I mean, just look at Lucas. He’s come so far from who he was back in sophomore year -- no reason why you aren’t capable of it, too.

As Chai takes in her words, Isadora finishes her drink and stands up.

> **Isadora:** Good luck with the election.
> 
> **Chai, timidly:** _[ trying to be lighthearted ]_ Can I count on your vote?

Isadora doesn’t give a response, hanging on the open-ended question. Can she? From her expression, we can’t tell for sure which way she might go. And now’s the time to know, as the opening notes float in…

> **AAA Students, pre-lap:** _The Election of 2020…_

* * *

**INT. CHUBBIES - DAY**

**Song Cue ♫ ♪ “The Election of 1800 (or, 2020)” as performed by _Hamilton_ Original Broadway Cast || Performed by Lucas James Friar, Riley Matthews, Chai Fresco & Farkle Minkus (feat. AAA Students)**

_[ Lyrics specific to characters -- follow along[here](https://docs.google.com/document/d/1biPZDNGFoWVwA9xYjrRgtlpyCU5GEr9E9tFYOffKra4/edit?usp=sharing)! ]_

Another major one to follow along with in terms of lyrics, because these political bitches are talking a _lot_. But makes sense, because _this_ showdown has been brewing for weeks!

> **Lucas:** _Can we get back to politics_?
> 
> **Riley:** _Please_.

Lucas and Riley take on the roles of Jefferson and Madison, convening at Chubbies that morning to have one last strategy meeting. Lucas paces behind the counter, Riley seated on a stool, going back and forth about his prospects. Riley gently suggests that to put Lucas over the edge, he needs a key endorsement. Someone the performers trust, who can pull from Chai’s base, whose support for Lucas might _actually_ change peoples’ minds. Lucas leans forward across the counter, raising his eyebrows.

> **Lucas:** _Who did you have in mind?_
> 
> **Riley:** … _don’t laugh._
> 
> _[ That’s not what you want to hear. Lucas sighs, bracing himself. ]_
> 
> **Lucas:** _Who is it?_
> 
> **Riley:** _[ with a smile ] Your fave “suicidal giraffe?”_

Riley rushes to appeal to Lucas’s logic, emphasizing what they both know is true. Farkle has been Lucas’s long-time public enemy, his biggest critic and public detractor. If he changed his tune… especially when he’s been quiet for so much of the election…

Lucas comes around the counter, coming to lean against the side with the stools next to her. He crosses his arms, thoughtful, joining her on the refrain. They exchange a sideways glance.

_It might be nice, it might be nice… to get Farkle on your side…_

**INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY**

Chai is on her final stretch of campaigning as well, not throwing in the towel until the votes are cast. She’s on top of her game, smile even more charming knowing that her secret is safe, shaking hands and leading her campaign team in a march through the halls.

_It’s 2020, ladies, tell your friends to vote for Chai!_

The AAA student body gossips about the candidates and their choices, then sets their sights on Farkle. He’s walking through the hall with headphones on, keeping the quiet calm in his head, but their voices follow him with the constant question of who he’s going to choose.

He doesn’t break from his safety bubble until he spots Chai himself, pulling his headphones down around his neck and engaging her in conversation. She seems pleased to chat with him, knowing just as well as Lucas that his endorsement is strategic. The decisive moment comes when Farkle asks her one question, seemingly innocent.

> **Farkle:** _Is there anything you wouldn’t do?_
> 
> **Chai:** _No! I’m chasing what I want, and you know what?_
> 
> **Farkle:** _What?_
> 
> **Chai:** _I learned that from you._

That settles with Farkle fast, shifting his expression in an instant. Chai gives him a wink, squeezing his shoulder as she saunters off. At first, it’s hard to tell how the comment landed with Farkle -- is he flattered? Confused? Won over? Then his brow furrows, mouth dipping into a frown, and we can tell it’s not a thrill.

_If you had to choose, if you had to choose…_

In the midst of Farkle contemplating this one moment, the screen splits to share shots of the rest of the A class in the voting booth. Confidently making their choice, participating in the democratic process. Although we can’t see exactly who each of them vote for, some of their behavior tips us off -- Riley gives her ballot a tiny kiss before she drops it into the box. Dave darkens the circle for Lucas so deeply it bleeds through to the other side. Isadora takes her time, thinking it through… then checks a box, dropping it into the bin.

_If you had to choose…_

Farkle knows his own ambition. He knows how far it pushed him, the things it made him do -- the people he hurt because of it. If Chai is modeling her aims after him, even if just as smooth flattery, that chills Farkle to the bone way more than Lucas chasing him around the auditorium as freshmen ever did.

Suddenly motivated, Farkle takes off down the hallway.

**INT. AAA - CAFETERIA - DAY**

Bam! Farkle jumps onto a tabletop in the cafeteria, addressing a large assembly of undecided performer voters. Finally making his public endorsement, after weeks of silence.

> **Farkle:** _And if you were to ask me who I’d promote? [ a beat ] Lucas James Friar has my vote._

Farkle goes on to explain through the music, highlighting that he and Lucas are not best friends. They rarely agree, they have disdain for just about every aspect of one another. It’s not the easiest choice in the world, but at the end of the day…

> **Farkle:** _Lucas has beliefs; Chai has none._

**INT. AAA - ATRIUM - DAY**

Lucas and his campaign team are assembled outside the main office, Chai and her cronies on the other side of the atrium. All of them are looking at their phones, Dogi Exclusive reporting Farkle’s endorsement in full. Riley, Dylan, and Asher are stunned.

_Well, I’ll be damned! Well, I’ll be damned!_

Lucas is surprised, too, but he isn’t ready to process it yet. He’s got his sights set on the main office, waiting for Jack and Eric to finish counting the votes and announce the winner. Finally, they emerge, Jack’s expression unreadable for half a second before he breaks into a grin and informs Lucas he _won in a landslide._

The Lucas campaign team erupts, Dylan and Asher cheering while Maya lets out a war cry of victory. Lucas turns around just in time to catch Riley, who barrels him with a hug, the two of them spinning around as they embrace.

Chai approaches from across the atrium, cordial smile in place as she congratulates Lucas on his win. She extends her hand, declaring that she sure did put up a fight. Lucas reluctantly agrees, accepting the hand shake. Then things get tricky, when Chai assumes the status quo…

> **Chai:** _I look forward to our partnership._
> 
> **Lucas:** _Our partnership?_
> 
> **Chai:** … _as your Vice President?_
> 
> **Lucas:** _[ breaking into mocking laughter ] Yeah, right!_

Yeah, no, Lucas has no plans to stick to the usual way of politics. That rule has always been stupid -- Chai can campaign against him all month long, and then she just gets to be his VP? Not on his watch. Chai grows offended, cool professionalism melting into anger.

> **Asher:** _It is crazy that the person who comes in second gets to be Vice President._
> 
> **Lucas:** _Ooh, well, we can change that! You know why?_
> 
> **Dylan, gleefully:** _Why?_
> 
> **Lucas:** _Because I’m the President!_

Asher and Dylan grin, clasping their hands together in front of them and tilting their heads pitifully at Chai. _Sorry, Fresco_. Lucas steps closer, lowering his voice just to rub it in.

> **Lucas:** _Chai… when you see Farkle… thank him for the endorsement. (:_

Then he turns to go celebrate, Dylan and Asher throwing their arms around him and basking in the hard-earned victory. They leave Chai to stew in the unexpected blow, a bit of a dick move but something Lucas does have every right to do.

Ah, politics...

* * *

**INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY**

It’s Zay who catches Farkle next though, the two of them crossing paths as school wraps up for the day. Zay takes the chance to commend Farkle for actually speaking his mind, using his voice to make a difference. Maybe not a _large_ -scale one, since it’s just AAA, but it’s good practice. Farkle points out Zay was the one who encouraged him in the first place, so maybe there is something he can learn from him.

> **Zay:** Well, I could’ve told you that ages ago.

Farkle asks Zay if he’s going to the victory party for Lucas, which he denies. It’s a fun idea and everything, but he feels like he should really get some rehearsing in. The Turner mixer was great, and he’s glad he went, but it reminded him just how much competition is out there. And if the intel about Haverford is true…

> **Farkle:** Never ends, does it?
> 
> **Zay:** Not in this industry.

Zay starts to head to the usual studio, but Farkle catches his attention one more time.

> **Farkle:** Zay. _[ off his eyebrow raise ]_ There’s no real competition for you.

Well… damn. That’s kind of the nicest thing Farkle has ever said to him. Zay accepts the compliment, nodding, but it’s unlikely Farkle realizes how nice it is to hear that right now.

**INT. CHUBBIES - DAY**

In the aftermath of a successful campaign, Maya is alone. She’s nursing a strawberry milkshake in the back corner booth -- a carb splurge for her. In an hour or so the diner will be overrun with Lucas’s victory celebration, but for now, it’s tame. Calm before the storm.

That’s where Lucas finds Maya, showing up early. He goes back to join her, asking if he can sit and then not waiting for a response as he slides in across from her. He eyes her choice of drink, and her overall dour mood.

> **Lucas:** You seem blue. Well, theatrically blue.
> 
> **Maya, theatrically:** Post-election depression. The low after the sweet high of victory. I was hoping to spike this -- think you could get me a shot of something for this?
> 
> **Lucas:** No.
> 
> **Maya:** Wah. Boring. What did we elect you for anyway?

She takes a moody sip of the milkshake, Lucas rolling his eyes. He admits he thought she would be in a better mood considering they crushed Chai. Wasn’t that her whole goal? Maya shrugs.

> **Maya:** This may come as a shock, but it’s not often that I do things that don’t directly benefit me.
> 
> **Lucas, deadpan:** I can’t believe it. You? Modern-day Mother Theresa.
> 
> **Maya:** I know, I know. _[ with a sigh ]_ So, I don’t know. I suppose there’s an unfamiliar quality to the whole thing. A victory, but not for me specifically. I get that the greater good is real pleased and all that, but I guess it’s gonna take some time for me to adjust to that missing gratification. _[ a beat ]_ Don’t get me wrong, though, the melancholy is deliciously dramatic. I’ll be using this in a future role someday, for sure. Probably Oscar-worthy.
> 
> **Lucas:** Sure…
> 
> **Maya:** Just a little weird, that’s all. Putting all this work into something to not get anything in return.

Well… maybe not. Lucas claims that’s why he came to find her, actually. If he can get a word in around her morose soliloquy. She rolls her eyes, then gestures for him to go on, already disinterested. He states that with all the work she put in, the way she seemed to believe in his campaign promises -- once she _actually_ listened to them, that is -- maybe she’ll get something out of her efforts after all.

> **Maya:** Friar, don’t flatter yourself. Your business really doesn’t impress me much.
> 
> **Lucas:** No, but it might… when you’re Vice President.

Okay, _now_ he’s got her attention. Maya straightens up, raising her eyebrows and staring at him in surprise. He’s truly caught her off guard for the first time, and understandably so -- Lucas offering to share anything with Maya Hart sort of seems like a sign of the apocalypse. But, as he goes on to explain, he’s thought it through.

> **Lucas:** We both want change. We both know what it’s like to scrap for what we want, even if we’re coming from completely different sides. And the only way anything is going to get done is if we’ve got collaboration from techies and performers. You worked hard for the campaign, which proves you can be loyal if we’re fighting for the same cause.
> 
> **Maya:** I do bring a certain je ne sais quoi to the political arena…
> 
> **Lucas:** The bottom line is you’re a raging bitch, and I’m the biggest bastard Triple A has ever seen. _[ off her nod of acknowledgment ]_ Maybe, if we combine our efforts, then we can actually make some real change.

Maya considers this, tilting her head thoughtfully. Drawing out the decision, for the drama of it all… then she smiles, confident and slightly mischievous. She extends her hand.

Boy, here we go… after one last moment of consideration, Lucas clasps her hand across the table. Sealing the deal, kicking off the least likely partnership in AAA history.

**INT. CHUBBIES - LATER - NIGHT**

And then we’re celebrating! The techies are leading a cheer in the background, rallying the assembled students, while Riley and Lucas share a kiss over by the counter. A victory kiss, as it were. Lucas goes in for another one, surprising Riley.

> **Riley:** Wow. I didn’t realize taking office would make you so greedy.
> 
> **Lucas:** It’s not -- it’s well deserved. The first kiss was for me, this one is for you. For a successful campaign.
> 
> **Riley:** Very quick spin. You must be a politician.
> 
> **Lucas:** Ugh, that’s disgusting. Please don’t ever call me that again.
> 
> **Riley:** Fine, fine. You must be an honorable public servant. A do-gooder. Or maybe just my very articulate, good-looking boyfriend who also just so happens to be president --
> 
> **Lucas, embarrassed:** Okay, stop talking. I’m taking my second kiss now.
> 
> **Riley:** Oh, but I thought it was mine -- ?

Lucas cuts off her cheeky response by kissing her, which based on her grin, she’s not at all opposed to. They might have even kissed again, despite being in public, but Nate interrupts them to offer Lucas a congratulations. He gives him a bracing pat on the back.

> **Nate:** Well-fought race, Lucas James. Damn tight contest, wasn’t it? Dare I say, I really almost had you for a minute there.
> 
> **Lucas:** Nate. You didn’t even _try_ to run.
> 
> **Nate:** Yeah, well that’s not what my college apps are gonna say! Hell yeah, democracy!

Riley takes the break in conversation to drift away for a moment and check her phone. She scans the party, not finding who she’s looking for, then shoots a quick text.

**EXT. DWEEZIL’S ESTATE - PATIO - NIGHT**

_Where are you?? Are you coming??_

The text comes through on Charlie’s phone, who looks at it but hesitates on a reply. It’s clear he’s nowhere near Chubbies, the victory party for the Havies going on in full swing in the background. He starts to type a response, then stops, torn over what to say.

> **Billy, off-screen:** C, come on!

Charlie glances over his shoulder, then back at the text conversation. Ultimately, he chooses to say nothing, pocketing his phone and blowing Riley off as he jogs back towards Dweezil’s.

One of the boys…

**INT. CHUBBIES - NIGHT**

While Riley is being digitally stood up, JOE grabs Lucas’s attention and gestures him behind the counter. He warns him to make sure nothing gets out of control, or it’s coming out of his paycheck… but also congratulates him on his win. Then he lets him know someone dropped something by, said it was for him. He dropped it with his stuff at his cubby hole.

**INT. CHUBBIES - BACK ROOM - NIGHT**

Lucas ducks into the back room, obviously curious as he has no clue who would be dropping something off for him. He goes to his usual cubby where one of his jackets is hanging, finding the standard size envelope tucked into the pocket. He grabs it to investigate, surprised by the density of whatever’s inside.

When he actually opens it, his expression shifts to shock. He retrieves a bundle of cash from its depths, hundreds of dollars at _least_. He almost drops it, hands shaking. _What the hell?_

He scrambles to flip the letter over, looking for any hint as to what the hell is going on. All there is to be found is a short message on the front, written in loopy, unfamiliar penmanship.

_Congratulations, Slumdog President._

**INT. AAA - DANCE STUDIO - NIGHT**

Zay is back in the studio alone, taking a break from rehearsing his routine. Based on the sheen of sweat he’s sporting, he’s definitely been working hard again, so a break is probably deserved.

That being said, what he’s choosing to do with it probably isn’t wise. He’s sitting on the floor and scrolling through social media -- Vanessa’s, specifically. Lowkey doing the same thing she did to him back in 303, trying to get a better sense of who this bitch is who is so intent on becoming his new rival. It just makes him irritated, though, staring at her face, so he clicks back to his home page.

Which isn’t the best move either. The first update on his page is from Charlie, which is surprising, because he rarely uses his social media. Zay knows he shouldn’t look… clicking on your ex’s stuff is like break-up no-no number one… but he can’t help himself.

And it becomes clear why the update exists at all pretty quickly, obviously not Charlie’s idea. He’s present, seemingly laughing along, while Billy mans the camera and shows off how much fun they’re having at the Haverford party. It’s like a five second video, that says nothing of substance, but to Zay it feels like everything. All these new people, new laughter, a whole new life.

Zay slams his phone face down on the floor of the studio, not able to look at it anymore. Emotional, though it’s hard to tell if it’s hurt, anger, sadness, or some combination of the three.

So he does what he’s been doing for weeks to forget about it -- throws himself back into rehearsing. He jumps back to his feet and queues the track he’s been using again, taking a deep breath to center himself. Then he starts into the audition routine for perhaps the thousandth time, obviously so rehearsed it’s like it’s etched into his bones.

And while it’s good, it’s really good. For the few glimpses we get of it, it’s clear that Zay wasn’t kidding when he said he would get into Turner on his own merit. We know how hard he works, and now we’re seeing the full product of that dedication.

But everybody makes mistakes. Zay overspins on a move and lands wrong on his right foot, the same one he tripped into the pool with. He cringes, shaking it off, and starting to launch into the next move…

And then something is _really_ wrong. Something pulls wrong and Zay curses, stumbling to the ground. He tries to get back up, but he can’t -- it’s like his leg isn’t listening to him anymore. Then the pain hits, searing and sudden and overwhelming. Zay reaches to grab his ankle, though he can’t quite figure out where the pain is coming from. It’s all along his _left_ leg.

All he knows for sure is that it hurts. It’s excruciating, and he can’t get back to his feet.

He leans over and presses his head to his knees, then lets out a harrowing scream.

_**END OF EPISODE.** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, awesome AAA warriors! I hope you're enjoying the season so far. :) While we usually have our episodes air on Fridays, our last three episodes are going to have a slightly different air schedule due to creator personal stuff. You can find the more in-depth schedule description on ambitionsource, but here is the planned air date for the last 3 episodes of 3A:
> 
> Friday, December 11 - “The Comfort Zone” (306)  
> Monday, December 21 - “Can You Dig It?” (307)  
> Thursday, December 31 - “Moment of Truth” (308)
> 
> Thank you all for your understanding, patience, and support, and as always, thanks for reading and caring about this project as much as we do! 💖
> 
> \-- Maggie


	9. The Comfort Zone [ 3.06 ]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> THE THINGS YOU THOUGHT YOU’D NEVER DO – Harper challenges the A class to push their limits in an effort to accommodate a fallen talent. Maya faces her greatest fear, while Lucas and Riley reassess their relationship. Charlie contemplates his biggest move yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ( Follow along with the music on Spotify [here](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/17qHHA7v0GQbxmmKZa10Hv?si=-1x_9vv1RySKFUuJcEfY_g)! )

We start on black, while the dreamy, groovy tones of HONNE guide us into the episode…

 _One, two, three, four_ \--

**EXT. AAA - TECHNICIAN’S BOOTH - DAY**

* * *

**Song Cue ♫ ♪ “free love” as performed by HONNE || Instrumental (starting at 00:40)**

The music is setting the mood for RILEY MATTHEWS and LUCAS JAMES FRIAR, who are spending some time before school that morning together. They’re not exactly doing what they normally do in the booth, though… no tech work or post-election strategizing being done this fine morning in October…

Okay, they’re kissing. They’re hooligans, and they’re kissing in the booth.

As frowned upon as that likely is, the energy is light and easy between them. They’re smiling while they kiss, giggling when they catch their breath and seemingly always on the verge of laughing even though nothing is necessarily funny. Nothing about it is intense or heavy -- in fact, it might be the most loose we’ve ever seen Lucas.

Right then, in that moment, it’s just the two of them, and that’s the only thing that matters.

Riley breaks from their next kiss and nudges Lucas’s sweatshirt up his torso. He helps her pull it over his head, now just in his plain dark blue tee. Riley beams at him as he tosses the armor to the side, running her hands along his shoulders and down his arms. His very nice arms, that she can now actually _see_.

Clearly, that’s a win. Riley takes his face in her hands and pulls him back towards her.

**INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY**

Meanwhile, more students are beginning to file in for the school day, JACK HUNTER giving the underclassmen reminders not to dance in the halls as he’s known to do. He’s making his way towards the auditorium, stopping temporarily on the way there when he bumps into ERIC MATTHEWS in the hall. They exchange a few words about needing to debrief showdown funding details, but Jack tells him he’ll catch up with him when he’s back at his office.

**INT. AAA - TECHNICIAN’S BOOTH - DAY**

Riley hops onto the table with the lighting board, pushing it back a bit as she settles. Both she and Lucas reach to stabilize it at the same time -- don’t want to have to pay to replace _that_ \-- and then burst into laughter. They’re still chuckling as Lucas presses close again, the amusement fading into another long kiss.

Lucas dips his head down to press a kiss to her jaw, then affectionately bumps his nose against her cheek. Riley grins, pulling him closer. Her fingers lightly trace the front of his shirt, ghosting against his stomach… he gently nudges her cardigan off her shoulders, pressing a kiss to her collarbone...

**INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY**

Jack enters the house, casually greeting ASHER GARCIA and JADE BEAMON who are already hanging out in the back center section. They return his greeting without much thought, turning back to their earlier conversation… until they realize Jack is passing them, heading up the stairs towards the booth.

> **Asher:** Wait, Principal Hunter -- !
> 
> **Jade:** You don’t want to --

Jack pauses long enough to throw them a confused look at their behavior, but it’s too late. He’s already at the door. He starts to explain that he’s just here to quickly discuss something with Lucas, pushing into the booth --

**INT. AAA - TECHNICIAN’S BOOTH - DAY**

Riley and Lucas only have seconds when they hear the door open. Riley gasps and Lucas looks first, immediately grimacing in horror.

> **Lucas:** Oh, _shit_ \--

Lucas scoops Riley off the table and spins her around so he’s blocking her from view, but they’re not fast enough. Jack enters and sees just enough to know exactly what was going on, exclaiming in surprise and backing down the steps.

The secondhand embarrassment is probably strong enough that Jade and Asher can feel it. Both men screw their eyes shut and Riley hides behind Lucas, like if they avert their eyes then this never happened. Like if they never open them again, then they won’t have to face the fact that Jack just walked in on his pseudo-son making out with his girlfriend... on school property.

_Oh, free love…_

* * *

**_Cue title sequence._ **

**INT. CHARLIE’S CHURCH - DAY**

CHARLIE GARDNER sits in a pew during the early morning hours, already in his uniform and holding rosary beads in his hands. He keeps his head bowed in prayer for a moment, before looking up at a figure of Jesus on a cross in the main altar. Jesus stares down at him, willing him to move.

**INT. CHARLIE’S CHURCH - CONFESSIONAL - DAY**

Charlie enters the confessional, taking a deep breath and trying to calm his nerves. We can’t see the PRIEST on the other side, but we know that he’s there.

> **Charlie:** Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It’s been one month since my last confession.

The priest says nothing, patiently waiting for Charlie to explain further. Charlie fiddles with his rosary beads, eyes darting around, unsure what to focus on.

> **Charlie:** I… don’t really know where to begin. I’m sorry. I’ve done this a million times and I don’t know...
> 
> **Priest:** Take a breath, child. It’s okay. You have all the time you need. Remember neither God, nor I, intend to judge you, but to forgive you. You have nothing to be ashamed or afraid of.

Charlie nods, doing as the priest suggested by taking another deep breath. He closes his eyes.

> **Charlie:** I lie. All the time. Mainly about something… pretty important, but because of that, it feels like I lie about everything. And I’m sick of it. I hate hiding something so big from everyone. I feel… isolated, and disgusted with myself, but I don’t want to be. It’s like I’m desperately reaching out to people, and they’re waiting for me, but I can’t… in order to get to them, I have to tell them... 
> 
> **Priest:** _[ after a beat ]_ Yes?

Charlie snaps his eyes open, suddenly frozen. It dawns on him that there’s a person behind the screen -- a person who he knows, has known his entire life, and who probably knows it’s him. Anonymous or not, the possibility of someone within this close-knit community knowing...

> **Charlie, panicked:** I’m sorry for all these sins and the sins of my past life. I’m -- sorry.

He rushes out of the confessional.

**INT. CHARLIE’S CHURCH - DAY**

The priest looks out of the booth in concern, but Charlie has already fled. He only catches the door of the church swinging shut. He sighs, disappointed he couldn’t help.

**INT. AAA - TEACHER’S LOUNGE - DAY**

Eric is having coffee with HARPER BURGESS in the last few minutes before school starts. She’s obviously stressed, grappling with the news about what happened to Zay and trying to figure out how to address it without making a huge deal out of it. How she handles it this week is going to be more crucial than anything, since he’ll be adjusting to everything in the moment.

> **Harper:** I just can’t believe it. _[ shaking her head ]_ He’s it, Eric. You know? That is a kid who is going to be something. I’ve seen it since I first started here. He’s got what it takes, he’s got that special… _thing_. And now --
> 
> **Eric:** And now, it’s a little more complicated. But he’s not _done_. And I’m sure he’s having the same thoughts, so the best thing you can do for him is not feed into that fear. If there’s a time to be calm and resolute, I think this is it.
> 
> **Harper:** Yeah, well, this and the time one of our students tried to kill himself.
> 
> **Eric:** Welcome to Adams.

Yeah, the A class really never does let up… Harper sighs, caught between nerves and amusement at how ridiculous it is. Eric commends her though, because she’s right, she is juggling more complex a hand than most performance coaches who came before her. For now, she needs to figure out how she’s going to frame this week without singling out Zay _or_ making him feel uncomfortable with the fact that things have changed. That he can’t do the things he normally can do, that usually make him stand out.

As she’s processing, an idea seems to strike her. Maybe that’s exactly it.

> **Harper:** Maybe the way to make one person less uncomfortable is to make _everyone_ uncomfortable.
> 
> **Eric:** Um --
> 
> **Harper:** I mean, think about it. If we’re all out of our element, then are we really? If there’s no element to be in? If everyone is uncomfortable, then is anyone _really_ uncomfortable?
> 
> **Eric:** I don’t think that logic quite works the way you want it to, and I’m scared of where you’re going with this, but I love the enthusiasm.

Harper clarifies, stating that maybe the key lesson for the week shouldn’t be trying to avoid the discomfort of reality, they should simply lean into it. If everyone tries something they wouldn’t normally do, steps out of their comfort zone, then at least Zay isn’t being forced to do it alone.

**INT. AAA - JACK’S OFFICE - DAY**

Well, Jack and Lucas are _way_ ahead of Harper. The two of them and Riley are seated in Jack’s office, but no one is speaking. The room is dead silent, rife with uncomfortable tension. Lucas is slouched low in his chair, hand covering his mouth, eyes glued to the floor. Jack has his eyes closed, hands clasped together in front of his face and fingers pressed against the bridge of his nose. He’s taking deep, calming breaths.

Riley, on the other hand, can’t look away. She’s sitting in a chair that’s been pulled next to Lucas’s -- but a safe distance apart -- and it looks like she’s about to explode. She keeps shifting her gaze between them, chewing her lip, waiting for _someone_ to say _something_. The avoidant energy is going to kill her way more than the embarrassment.

> **Riley:** … Jack -- Principal Hunter, if I could just --

Jack makes a weird humming noise in the back of his throat, holding up a finger to halt her. No. Not ready yet. Riley takes the directive, settling back in her chair.

Silence reigns for a few more moments, then Jack releases a long, drawn-out exhale through his nose. He opens his eyes and lowers his hands onto the desk in front of him, speaking with authoritative dismay as he relays what he just witnessed.

> **Jack:** I understand that you are… involved with one another, and there are certain compulsions that come with that. But to engage in kissing of any degree at an inappropriate time... to demonstrate such behavior, let _alone_ on public, school property -- and in the technician’s booth? Where any other member of the community could intrude at any time, as we now all very well know?
> 
> **Lucas, under his breath:** But when it’s the costume loft, it’s fine…

The comment does not go unheard. Jack stares at Lucas, as does Riley, who whips her head to gape at him next to her. The expression on her face is a mix of horror and disbelief. _Really? You’re being a smart ass_ now? But Lucas remains defensively aloof, still avoiding eye contact.

> **Jack:** Miss Matthews, you may go. I need to have a word with our new student body president alone.

That doesn't sound good. Riley scrambles to cover, apologetic.

> **Riley:** No, no, please, Principal Hunter, it was me. It was all me, really, don’t punish him, he just --
> 
> **Jack:** Riley.

Jack raises his eyebrows, nodding towards the door. The dismissal is gentle, all things considered, but pointed. Riley frowns, rising from her seat. She pauses by the door and looks back towards Lucas, searching for something to say or maybe to give him a moment of encouragement… but given what they’re there for, she thinks better of it. She leaves without another word, leaving Jack and Lucas to stew in the awkwardness on their own.

> **Jack:** She’s a good kid. _[ eyeing him ]_ Still a mystery how she ended up tangled in with you…
> 
> **Lucas:** So, what? Is this when you finally expel me? Beating up a bigot and vandalism, you can let slide, but kissing is just… too much. Impeachment! Throw him out.
> 
> **Jack:** I know you’re being brash because you’re embarrassed, so I’m going to let that slide. _[ off his sheepish expression ]_ But that’s exactly the problem. Aside from the fact that you simply shouldn’t be doing that stuff _anyway_ , it means more now that you’re president. You have power now.
> 
> **Lucas:** I don’t know if I’d call student government power…
> 
> **Jack, serious:** You have power, Lucas. And with that comes responsibility.
> 
> **Lucas:** Okay. Thank you, Uncle Ben.
> 
> **Jack:** Technically, Voltaire. But it’s true. You’ve always had people watching you, but now that’s more prevalent than ever. _Especially_ with our new administrators.

Bottom line, Lucas needs to think carefully and act carefully. He’s got one more year here, and plenty of opportunities waiting for him -- if he doesn’t fuck it all up by being thoughtless or reckless. That’s all Jack wants him to consider.

That tough discussion aside, Jack changes tracks. He brings up Lucas’s college applications, touching base on how those are going. Does he have his transcript requests in order? Has he started thinking about the essay component? Lucas lists off the schools he’s planning on applying to -- a handful of community colleges, a couple of higher-reach New York schools. But it’s clear from how he talks about it that UC Davis, the top school for veterinary medicine in the country, is his top choice.

But it’s not going to be easy. For one thing, getting in will be a challenge, and then there’s the fact that he can barely afford community college. If he wants to go somewhere like that, he’s going to have to net a _lot_ of scholarship support. Which means even more grind and even more supplementary materials to fill out. Yes, there’s a lot of work left to do… but Jack seems happy to help guide him, keeping him on track and organized.

**INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY**

ISADORA DE LA CRUZ updates her weekly schedule on a whiteboard inside of her locker when CHAI FRESCO approaches, giving an awkward wave. Isadora glances up at her and offers a small smile in greeting.

> **Isadora:** What’s up?
> 
> **Chai:** I just wanted to thank you again for being so chill about... well, you know. And for not making a big deal about me losing the election.
> 
> **Isadora:** It’s whatever. Not my place to say anything. But I still stand by the fact that it shouldn’t stay a secret.

Chai nods and Isadora shuts her locker, beginning the walk to class. 

> **Isadora:** It kind of sucks that Lucas didn’t at least make you part of his cabinet, though.
> 
> **Chai:** It is what it is. If he’d rather work with Maya than me, that’s his prerogative.

**INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY**

Lucas jogs into the house just as class is gathering, the seniors assembled in the front and center section. With the exception of Zay, everyone is in attendance. Lucas eyes Chai and Isadora wrapping up their conversation before they go to sit with their respective friend groups, surprised and slightly perturbed to see them interacting so casually.

He slides into a seat between Dylan and Riley, the latter nervously asking him if he got in trouble. He starts to respond, but Harper calls them to attention.

She explains the assignment. This week, they’re focusing on pushing their limits, expanding past their perceived restraints and trying something new. The world beyond AAA is going to be full of new opportunities and things that might terrify them, but that doesn’t mean that they shouldn’t pursue them. That’s why they’re practicing it now, doing the thing that scares them, or at least isn’t their usual mode of operation. It’s all about stepping out of our comfort zones this week!

Naturally, this announcement gets mixed reactions. Mainly, people are confused -- what exactly does this assignment _mean_? How are they going to be graded on it? And how do they decide what technically counts as out of their comfort zone? How far are they expected to push?

> **Asher:** This is my worst nightmare.

Harper quiets their dissent, waving away the concerns and declaring the assignment open to interpretation. Whatever stepping out of their comfort zone means to them, they should follow that instinct. The things they thought they might never do. Much to think about…

Once Harper has wrapped up the introduction, she releases the class to begin brainstorming. She hops off the stage and goes to where Isadora is sitting with Riley.

> **Harper:** Isadora, would you mind stepping out with me for a moment? Just a quick conversation.
> 
> **Isadora:** Oh, sure.

The teacher leads Isadora out of the auditorium, leaving Riley alone. She goes over to where MAYA HART is talking animatedly, energized by the assignment. She’s already decided exactly what she’s going to do. She explains it as such to DARBY WINTERS and FARKLE MINKUS.

> **Maya:** I mean, I know what you’re thinking. I thought it too. What could I _possibly_ do this week, the diva who has mastered every genre? Dominated every trend?
> 
> **Farkle:** Maybe a lesson in humility?
> 
> **Maya:** And that’s when it hit me. Of course. This week, to truly step out of my comfort zone, I have to make it _not_ about me.
> 
> **Riley:** Oh, well that’s actually --
> 
> **Darby:** That seems nice --
> 
> **Maya:** I need to _share_ my gifts, use them to direct _other_ people to greatness. So, it’s settled. _[ proudly ]_ I’m going to be a manager this week, and lead others to excellence. 
> 
> **Farkle:** … so, you’re still just bossing everyone else around?

Maya won’t hear their negative commentary. No, she’s figured this whole thing out! And she knows exactly who she’s going to start with as a client, jumping at Riley and locking her into a side hug. She claims she’s going to help Riley ace this assignment. They’re gonna break her free of that darling little box she keeps herself in.

> **Riley:** Oh, goody…

**INT. AAA - TEACHER’S LOUNGE - DAY**

Harper has taken Isadora to the privacy of the lounge, empty aside from the two of them.

> **Isadora:** What was it you wanted to talk about? I’m not in trouble, am I?
> 
> **Harper:** No, no. I wanted to check in about how you’re feeling in regards to performing. I know you’re indefinitely on a performance hiatus, but considering the theme of the week, I thought this might be a good opportunity to push those boundaries. You know, get back out there.
> 
> **Isadora:** I don’t know… it’s not that I don’t want to. I’ve thought about it.
> 
> **Harper:** Okay, that’s good.
> 
> **Isadora:** But it’s still… yeah, I don’t know. I mean, I know my problem isn’t as immediate as Zay’s this week, but --
> 
> **Harper:** No issue is more or less important than the other. All of you are going through your own journeys, and that’s fine. _[ a beat ]_ How about you take it one day at a time this week, and we’ll see how things are at the end. You trying is zone pushing enough, so don’t stress about the final performance. Just try in front of one person, then maybe push it to two, etc. Take it step by step; no need to jump into the deep end. Then when the end of the week comes, we’ll see where you’re at.

Isadora considers, then agrees. Performing in front of just one person doesn’t seem _too_ bad...

**INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY**

Upon exiting the lounge, Isadora meets up with Maya and Farkle. She informs them of her decision to attempt performing again.

> **Maya:** Oh my God, _finally_. That’s great, Izzy! And a perfect opportunity to put my managerial skills to the test.
> 
> **Isadora:** Your what now?
> 
> **Maya:** Don’t you worry, Miss Izzy, I’ll have you up and performing again in no time.

The offer of help only seems to make Isadora more nervous, but she accepts it anyway. Farkle bids her good luck -- she’ll probably need it.

**EXT. AAA - LUNCH COURTYARD - DAY**

The techies are gathered for lunch at their usual table, though Lucas is absent. That’s exactly what they’re avidly discussing, the fact that Lucas was _kissing_ Riley -- and he got caught. It’s clear the techie tots find this thoroughly amusing, but also tragic. Well, except DAVE WILLIAMS, who doesn’t really get what they’re talking about. NATE MARTINEZ theatrically shakes his head, seated next to JEFF MONROE.

> **Nate:** It’s so sad. I don’t think he’s ever going to be able to show his face outside that booth again. Remember when I made a _joke_ about him kissing Ri Ri in the group chat and he left it and blocked my number for two weeks?

Jeff and Jade laugh. DYLAN ORLANDO throws an arm around Asher, experienced and wise.

> **Dylan:** This is why they should leave the kissing on school grounds to the professionals. It’s not something newbies can just jump into lightly. It’s a serious art form, a trade.
> 
> **Asher:** Oh, God…
> 
> **Dylan:** It takes an expert. And experts don’t get caught.
> 
> **Jeff:** Except by Yogi that one time.
> 
> **Asher:** _[ hiding in his hands ] Ugh_ \--
> 
> **Dylan:** An anomaly.
> 
> **Jade:** Damn thesaurus --
> 
> **Dylan:** Exception to the rule. I’m just saying, our track record speaks for itself. Or doesn’t, really, because none of y’all know, do you? That’s right, you _don’t_ know.
> 
> **Dave:** Know what? What are we talking about?
> 
> **Dylan:** Because Ash and I? We’re _professionals_. And we take our craft serious.
> 
> **Nate:** Or you’re just lucky.
> 
> **Dylan:** _[ slamming his hand down ]_ It’s called gay rights! Look it up, Nathaniel!

**INT. AAA - CAFETERIA - DAY**

Just inside, Riley is carrying on a similar conversation with Farkle. He comments that he’s shocked they couldn’t keep the thirst down for a school day -- especially since it seems like Lucas is incapable of feeling most human emotions most days.

> **Riley:** But that’s just the thing -- listen. _Listen_. We’re really not usually like that.
> 
> **Farkle:** Right…
> 
> **Riley:** I’m serious! Not because Lucas is incapable of emotion, or whatever, but just… stuff like that, it’s complicated. He usually isn’t… we haven’t actually done much of… I mean, to that degree…

Like, yeah, the timing was inconvenient, but moments where Lucas is that open and comfortable are rare. It’s not like they’re doing that kind of stuff all the time and just couldn’t hold back on it at school. Farkle nods along, but he doesn’t seem convinced.

Riley gives up on trying to explain, as the dynamic she and Lucas have is hard to articulate. All she knows is that yeah, things went pretty poorly once Jack showed up, but before that… she liked it. It felt good, right, being that close to him.

She doesn’t get to ruminate on it too long. Her attention is drawn over her shoulder as Farkle’s expression shifts to somber, finding ZAY BABINEAUX finally making his way into school.

In a wheelchair. His left calf is in a temporary splint and propped slightly up by the chair, which he unskillfully maneuvers towards their table to join them. It’s almost pitiful to watch, but also hard to look away from. Farkle makes a point of nodding to other onlookers to give them some space, but Riley keeps her focus trained on Zay. She manages a smile.

> **Riley:** Zay! You’re here. _[ a beat ]_ It’s so good to see you --
> 
> **Zay, sharply:** Don’t. Okay, Riley? Just don’t.

Whatever pity both of them have, he doesn’t want it. It just makes him feel gross. He pulls up close to their table and explains that the wheelchair is only temporary -- a way to keep him off his injured leg until he can meet with his primary care physician to get a more thorough diagnosis and treatment plan. He has an appointment after school.

> **Riley:** Did the hospital say anything else?
> 
> **Zay:** Just that it’s related to my tendon. I don’t know, I honestly was kind of out of it.
> 
> **Farkle:** Ah, the haze of the hospital morphine drip. Sometimes, you gotta miss it.
> 
> **Riley:** Don’t say that.
> 
> **Zay:** You will always be more concerning than anything that happens to me.
> 
> **Farkle:** And you’re welcome for that.
> 
> **Zay:** Anyway, my mom said I could stay home and just go to the appointment from there, but it felt weird not being here. Like the idea of hiding from it and letting everybody wonder was worse than just showing up.

Case in point, he doesn’t want anyone thinking he needs their sympathy. He’s going to go to the doctor, and get this worked out, and then everything is going to go on according to plan.

Riley and Farkle exchange a look, uncertain. But it’s clear that’s what Zay needs to believe right now, so they’re not going to correct him.

**INT. AAA - LECTURE HALL - DAY**

_Bang, bang!_ Lucas knocks a wooden gavel against the table, commenting on the needless theatricality of such a gesture, before welcoming the assembled handful of students to the first official meeting of the Friar-Hart presidential cabinet.

It’s an interesting assortment of people. Lucas goes around and introduces each of them, starting with the three underclassmen representatives for each class. Then NIGEL CHEY and Jade, his senior performer and senior technician representative, respectively. Then there’s CLARISSA CRUZ, their treasurer, and Asher as secretary on Lucas’s right.

> **Lucas:** And then Maya as our Vice President. Now --
> 
> **Maya:** Lucas. _[ raising her hand, smiling ]_ If I may?
> 
> **Lucas:** … okay, sure…

Lucas backs off, giving Maya the floor. And of course, she takes that to the most dramatic extreme she can. She rises to her feet and greets the cabinet on her own accord, thanking them all for taking on the mantle of change makers at Triple A. Maya is confident that between their commitment, and the visionary leadership of a Hart-Friar presidency --

> **Lucas:** Friar-Hart.
> 
> **Maya, ignoring him:** We will create long-lasting, meaningful change at this institution, on the legacy of Adams Academy of the Arts, or my name isn’t Maya Penelope Hart!

A couple of the underclassmen start to applaud, but it peters out pretty quickly. Maya isn’t deterred, blowing them a kiss before she takes her seat again. Lucas glances at her, Asher glaring unimpressed, before he elects to simply move on. It was his choice to bring Maya on as his VP, and this is the price he has to pay for it.

> **Lucas:** Anyway. I guess, before we get into logistics, does anybody have any questions?

Nigel lazily throws up a hand. Lucas nods to him.

> **Nigel:** Yeah, just a quick thing. What’s Orlando’s job?

All eyes throw to Dylan. He’s seated not at the table but behind the presidential side, spinning idly in a rolling chair. He smiles smugly.

> **Dylan:** My official title is “ambassador of public relational fun and enthusiasm, comma right hand advisor, comma prime minister of the techies and secretary of kissing, mainly to the secretary.”

This settles in the room for a moment. Then Lucas turns back to Nigel.

> **Lucas, plainly:** He’s Asher’s ride home.

Dylan beams wider, shrugging his shoulders. Asher keeps watching him over his shoulder, unable to hold back a grin, then shifts his attention back to the meeting as Lucas really gets down to business. Their main focus for first semester is securing the funding to add new scholarships, thereby widening the pool of people who can afford to attend Adams.

As Lucas puts it, they’re hoping to get funding from outside sources like the school board, but in case that falls through, they do have a plan of attack. The winner of senior showdown each year gets a sizable grant, to be allocated where they see fit. If they can unseat Haverford as champions, they can use the prize money to fund the initiative.

> **Lucas:** I don’t like the idea of putting the possibility of scholarship money for next year on the shoulders of each senior class, but right now it’s our best option. And if we can establish credibility this year, then maybe outside donors will be more willing to help support it in the future.
> 
> **Maya:** Worse comes to worst, we can dig into the funding the student government has set aside --
> 
> **Lucas:** But that will severely affect our ability to do other things we wanted, like updating tools for the technicians and general upkeep of the student facilities. If we want a chance of actually having a functioning government while achieving our biggest mission, then senior showdown is our best bet.
> 
> **Asher:** Not the last resort, but definitely the ideal route.

So there you have it. The focus has to be on senior showdown, and winning that prize money, even with the looming stress of college applications. Lucas also advises everyone to start brainstorming other ways to crowdfund, just in case they can’t secure additional funding.

But they’re off to a strong start. They’ve got a great cabinet, even better ideas, and they’re here to make change, damn it!

**INT. GRAND CENTRAL MARKET - DAY**

Riley is perusing the floor of Grand Central, Charlie in tow and carrying her basket as she shops. He’s just in the midst of apologizing again for blowing her off the other night. It seems she’s not going to hold it against him, but acting as her bagboy might be her payback. But she assures him it’s fine -- so much has happened this weekend, she honestly forgot about his absence.

When Charlie asks her to elaborate on everything that’s going on, Riley hesitates. Zay is at the forefront of her mind… but she knows how they are right now. She isn’t sure how Charlie would react, or if he wants to hear about Zay, or if Zay would _want_ him to know. Just another impossible relationship to navigate -- so she avoids the question, changing the subject.

> **Riley:** Besides, it’s not like I can really be that upset. You’re hanging out with your classmates. That’s good. I’m not going to begrudge you building a new network when that’s your home base now.
> 
> **Charlie:** Yeah, I guess.
> 
> **Riley:** And they seem nice. Evan was cool, at least when I ran into you guys.

Charlie nods, admitting that’s actually something he wanted to talk about. They pause their conversation momentarily for Riley to investigate a piece of produce, which she deems she likes, then he continues. He explains the awkward exchange he had with Evan, where he mistakenly assumed his intentions and then frantically had to cover.

> **Riley:** How did that even come up?
> 
> **Charlie:** Well, he was asking about --

Charlie glances at Riley, remembering why Evan wanted to talk to him. He clears his throat, shrugging it off.

> **Charlie:** Nothing, it wasn’t important. It just ended up on that, and I’m an idiot who thought he was coming onto _me_ , I guess because I’ve never had a normal interaction with boys before like some kind of weirdo martian.
> 
> **Riley:** Well, if so, you’re a cute weirdo martian. But I think it’s more the gay Catholicism.
> 
> **Charlie:** So I lied and told him I was just joking, which I think he bought, but it’s hard to say since I’m neither funny nor smooth.
> 
> **Riley:** Okay, so that’s good, right? Problem solved.
> 
> **Charlie:** Yeah, it’s just -- _[ pausing to let a family pass them ]_ it didn’t make me feel all that safe. Or comforted. I guess it was one thing when I was just concealing it, you know, not acknowledging it either way. But having to go into that panic mode again, and straight up lying… I don’t know. It just felt gross. Like I’m tired of it. Most times, I’m more exhausted by the constant illusion than scared of the truth.

Riley gives him a sympathetic look, rubbing his arm. Then she searches for the spin.

> **Riley:** Maybe that’s a good thing. _[ off his confused look ]_ I just mean if you’re sick of hiding yourself, maybe that means you’re getting to the place where you want to be authentic. In the open, all the time -- or at least moments you deem safe to do so.
> 
> **Charlie:** I have told a couple other people…
> 
> **Riley:** See? So maybe this is just part of that. The more you open yourself up, stop holding your breath, the harder it’s going to be to continue stifling it. Maybe you’re ready to stop lying and start just being you.

Charlie contemplates. It doesn’t seem like such a far-off possibility anymore, in spite of his failed confession that morning. Riley suggests that if he’s looking for a way to test this theory, then maybe coming out to the collective friend group is a good place to start. Charlie doesn’t seem opposed to that idea, but depending on her definition of “the friend group,” he might be more hesitant. He timidly explains that if he thinks about their usual circle, there’s one person he gets stuck on nerves wise.

> **Riley:** Lucas? You’re worried about coming out to _Lucas_?
> 
> **Charlie:** I mean, I wouldn’t say _worried_. I know it doesn’t really matter, especially since he doesn’t even know who I am.
> 
> **Riley:** Again, that’s not true. And I really don’t think you should be overthinking that. His best friends are Dylan and Asher, Charlie. The gayest teenage duo in Manhattan.
> 
> **Charlie:** I know! I know that. It’s just like… I don’t know, I can’t explain it. I guess there’s this thing of the fact that he’s always been hard to impress, like this external source of judgment -- that, for whatever reason, I still really wanted approval from.
> 
> **Riley:** Mm. Yeah, he has that effect. Though he’d never believe it.
> 
> **Charlie:** So I guess it’s like this greater manifestation of my fears about it all. Projecting on him. Like, if he reacts some kind of way, then that’s going to set the tone for everything else after.
> 
> **Riley:** I would seriously caution against casting Lucas as the tastemaker for the rest of civilization. He’s about as clueless as you are. If you’ve got a brother in martiandom, it would definitely be him.

Even so, Riley understands. Coming out is daunting no matter to whom, and Charlie should decide to do it on his own accord, if and when he’s ready. But she’s sure it’ll go fine in their crew, and if he chooses to, then she’ll back him every step of the way. Charlie clearly isn’t sure what he’ll do, but he nods a thanks.

> **Farkle, pre-lap:** Considering how much work we’re putting into fixing me, backsliding doesn’t exactly seem like an option.

**INT. THERAPIST’S OFFICE - DAY**

Farkle is meeting with his therapist, DR. MICHELLE HAN. She listens attentively and takes notes while he rambles in classic Farkle fashion. It’s clear they’ve developed a comfortable dynamic over the last few months, Farkle reclined across her couch with his legs propped up on the arm rest. He’s relaying his weird low mood the last couple weeks, which is in sharp contrast to how energized he was earlier in the semester, and all deviating from the stability they were attempting to achieve over the summer.

Dr. Han calmly reminds him that recovery has peaks and troughs, and an experience of low points doesn’t negate any progress he’s made. However, it might have something to do with his medication -- dosage or brand -- so they’ll look into fiddling with it and see if that helps. That being said, she seems to take particular interest in his exact recounting of the way his high versus low moods feel, taking careful note in her notebook.

Farkle explains that part of the issue is he feels like he can’t express these “peaks and troughs,” as she put it, to anyone but her. Everyone is so enthusiastic about his recovery, and he doesn’t want to worry anybody by coming off negative. When he mentions he lied to his dad -- though is following his directives in being honest with her about his concerns -- Dr. Han speaks up.

> **Dr. Han:** And do you think that he might be contributing?
> 
> **Farkle:** What?
> 
> **Dr. Han:** Your father. We’ve discussed him now and then, and your descriptions have always been positive. But do you think he might be contributing to your hesitation to admit things aren’t as good as they should be? Recovery or otherwise?
> 
> **Farkle:** … no. No. My father and I have a great relationship. He’s always supported me, and I know he cares about me. Even if we haven’t always seen eye-to-eye, I know he cares. That couldn’t be it.
> 
> **Dr. Han:** Of course. It’s wonderful that you feel so connected to him.
> 
> **Farkle:** Well, I don’t know if I’d say…

Farkle pauses, Dr. Han raising her eyebrows. They’re on the cusp of a can of worms, one Farkle hasn’t ever touched before.

> **Farkle, deflecting:** My dad is a good dad. He takes care of us, and I’m able to talk to him about things. I know he loves me. That’s a lot more than what some of my friends have -- like one who beats them up when he’s pissy or no dad at all.
> 
> **Dr. Han:** That’s certainly true. But just because something is better than how others have it doesn’t mean it’s giving you what you need. _[ a beat ]_ Do you feel like he’s proud of you? Or that you’re getting what everything you want out of the relationship? Do his expectations match with yours?
> 
> **Farkle:** About what? Me?
> 
> **Dr. Han:** About anything?
> 
> **Farkle:** … I can’t think about this right now. I need to focus on my comfort zone assignment. I told you how ridiculous that whole thing is. It’s going to take all my mental power to devise what my strategy is going to be. Not all of us can tear our tendons.

Dr. Han lets it go for now, brushing over his last comment. But she gently advises him to think about what she asked in regards to his father, and consider perhaps having a more open conversation with him about expectations. Communication is the first step to any improvement, and expectations is a good, objective place to start before determining if you need to tread any deeper topics.

> **Dr. Han:** Even when you love someone, the relationship you share can be imperfect. It’s okay to acknowledge that and work to get it where you want it to be, that benefits all parties involved.

Farkle absorbs this, nodding before launching into a brainstorm about his assignment.

**INT. DOCTOR’S OFFICE - DAY**

Zay is also at the doctor, but they’re not focused on his mind. He’s sitting on the examination table, splinted foot propped up while his other one dangles over the side. DONNA BABINEAUX is with him, impatiently surveying the room while they wait for the doctor to return.

The wait feels excruciating. Zay stares at the clock on the wall above the door, ticking away, another second where he’s helpless. He taps his fingers against the plastic underneath him, but there’s no more rhythm. It’s just frantic, restless energy rather than counting out a beat.

He stops when Donna joins him, gently resting a hand over his on the table. He shifts his gaze to meet hers, and the tender look she gives him says it all. _We’re going to figure this out. We’re going to fix it._

Like mother, like son. Zay gives her a weak smile, which she mirrors.

Finally, the DOCTOR arrives, greeting them both briskly. He doesn’t beat around the bush or try to sugarcoat the situation, which Zay seems to appreciate. He quickly does one more assessment of the injured leg in question, Zay wincing slightly as he examines his ankle. Then the doctor launches into an explanation, sharing their conclusions.

> **Doctor:** You’ve torn your Achilles tendon -- a nasty tear, at that. That’s why the pain feels as though it’s all along your calf, when in reality, the damage is centered around your ankle. This is common among athletes, though it’s often caused by a sudden, improper movement. Falling, landing wrong --
> 
> **Zay:** That doesn’t make sense. I fell on my _right_ ankle the other day, but --
> 
> **Donna:** You fell? When did that happen?

Zay hesitates, then shrugs off the question.

> **Zay:** It doesn’t matter now. How did that mess up my _left_ leg?
> 
> **Doctor:** If your right ankle was injured for other reasons, overcompensation. You were putting more of your weight on the left to appease the right. Though I want to make it clear that tears like this don’t usually just happen out of the blue. It’s more likely you’ve been wearing it down for quite some time -- overuse, improper care, another distant injury that didn’t heal properly -- and whatever way you landed while dancing when it tore was the final straw.

Yeah, it’s no secret how hard Zay has been working. He grimaces and lowers his head, trying not to cry. Donna takes over, questioning what happens next. How do they go about fixing it?

> **Doctor:** Thankfully, while an unpleasant experience, tendons are fairly straightforward to heal. Given the severity of your injury, we’ll have to do surgery to repair the tendon so it can heal on its own.
> 
> **Zay:** _Surgery_?
> 
> **Doctor:** Don’t worry, it’s a simple procedure. It’s outpatient, they’ll have you in and out within the same day. From there --
> 
> **Zay, panicked:** How long is that going to take to heal? And _is_ it going to heal? If you sew it back together, or whatever, am I going to be able to dance again?

Ah, _there’s_ the question he cares about. The doctor remains unflappable, not reacting to Zay’s excitable tone.

> **Doctor:** Provided the surgery goes well and you give your leg the proper rest, you should make a full recovery. You will have to treat that leg cautiously though from here on out -- if you didn’t take stretches seriously before, hopefully this will teach you otherwise. _[ off his sheepish expression ]_ Best case scenario, you do the surgery, you let yourself rest and heal fast, we’re looking at 6 weeks or so.
> 
> **Zay:** 6 _weeks_? But auditions are -- I have to be able to practice. And senior showdown --
> 
> **Doctor, unmoved:** You’ll be in a boot about a week after the surgery, which you’ll need to navigate for most of the recovery. About three weeks post-surgery, you’ll begin physical therapy, which will help cement the repair. That said, it’s not _in_ expensive…

Zay curses to himself, hiding his head in his hands. Donna frowns, placing a comforting hand on his knee. She assures the doctor they’ll do whatever they need to do, pay whatever needs to be paid. The doctor claims that’s all well and good, but he cannot stress enough that the biggest key will be allowing the time to recover. It’s imperative that Zay _not_ push himself and his recovery before it’s given the chance to heal properly -- especially if he wants to be in better shape before “auditions,” or what have you.

Easier said than done for Zay Babineaux. But he’s an expert at maintaining professionalism, so that’s what he does. He pulls it together, swallowing his despair and aiming for confidence. He makes eye contact with his mom, then the doctor, nodding. He’ll recover, and then he’ll do what he needs to do.

**INT. CHUBBIES - DAY**

Dylan and Asher are hanging out at the counter while Lucas works, debriefing their first official cabinet meeting. Although Asher claims Maya’s obnoxiousness was an impeachable offense, overall they deem it a success. He’s less confident about the assignment this week, which he’s determined probably involves him performing because that’s the only push out of his comfort zone he can stomach.

> **Dylan:** And _that’s_ why this is the best week of my life.

Lucas isn’t listening, though, more focused on activity a few booths over. Isadora is chatting with Farkle when Chai gets up from her table with Darby and Sarah to come chat, holding a comfortable conversation with the two of them. Lucas watches the interaction suspiciously, causing Asher and Dylan to glance over their shoulders when they realize he’s distracted.

When they ask him what’s up, Lucas admits that something about Chai is still bothering him. Her smooth glide back into Adams -- and into new friendships -- just doesn’t track for him. He beat her in the election, yet something remains off-putting. And the way she’s been hanging around Isadora doesn’t assuage that feeling. Asher warns him not to get too paranoid, as politicians investigating their former opposition never goes well.

> **Lucas:** Don’t call me a politician.
> 
> **Asher:** Well, you are one. And you can have your suspicions, but don’t do anything stupid. You don’t want to end up embroiled in the Triple A equivalent of Watergate.
> 
> **Dylan:** What’s that, some kinda theme park? Sounds fun.
> 
> **Asher:** It was decidedly not fun. It’s one of the biggest presidential scandals in modern history, and meatball doesn’t want to repeat it.

Lucas rolls his eyes, getting Asher to back off with the history lessons. He isn’t planning anything dastardly, he’s just… questioning. That’s all. He wishes he could just figure out why his intuition is bothering him, then he could move on. Asher points out it’s probably related to the fact that she’s hanging out with Isadora, and he’ll always be protective of her, but Dylan offers a different solution.

> **Dylan:** Gentlemen, gentlemen. You’re forgetting a very important fact. Yes, Lucas can’t get involved, because he’s the president. And Asher can’t investigate, because he’s the very important and very sexy secretary to the president with lots of important and sexy responsibilities. It wouldn’t be wise for either of you to go digging, but _that_ is what you have me for. Dylan Orlando, the ambassador of public relational fun and enthusiasm, comma right hand advisor, comma prime minister of the techies and secretary of kissing, mainly to the secretary -- _and_ federal babe of investigation.
> 
> **Lucas:** Literally how do you come up with this stuff…
> 
> **Asher:** I’m not sure that’s a good idea.
> 
> **Dylan:** Come on, it’s the obvious solution! I’m not involved with your cabinet, so there’s no conflict of interest there. Me sleuthing would have nothing to do with your official duties. I’m great at talking to people, no one suspects me of anything, and I have _extensive_ knowledge of social media, which means I’m an expert at cyber data-mining. I bet I can do a thorough enough background check on Chai to deduce if there’s anything worth being concerned about.

It’s not a bad plan. Lucas reminds him that he’s not looking for trouble, he just wants to look out for Isadora. Dylan concurs, that will be the central mission of his endeavor.

> **Dylan:** This week _is_ about stretching our limits. Maybe it’s time to unleash my dark side and use my powers for evil.
> 
> **Lucas:** We’re not evil. She’s evil. Not us.
> 
> **Asher:** I don’t think that’s what the assignment means at all.
> 
> **Dylan:** _[ with a shrug ]_ Open to interpretation.

Regardless, it’s settled. Dylan is going to figure out the mysterious Chai Fresco.

**INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY**

* * *

**Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Generous” as performed by Olivia Holt || Performed by Missy Bradford**

For the first true performance of the episode, the comfort zone being tested is ours. MISSY BRADFORD’s rendition of the flirtatious pop ballad is the first number we’re experiencing more from her actual perspective than on the periphery. As for why it’s pushing limits, the focus of her attention -- and fictitious serenade -- becomes clear pretty quickly.

Missy starts at her locker, fixing up her appearance in the mirror and demonstrating her usual confident demeanor. Her eyebrow shoots up when something beyond herself catches her eye, having spotted Lucas arriving at his locker. He’s talking to an enthusiastic Riley, but it’s almost as if she’s blurred out of the picture, pretty irrelevant in Missy’s eyes.

As the two of them head down the hall, Riley holding Lucas’s hand as he drapes his arm around her shoulder, Missy moves into action. She launches into the pre-chorus ( _“Got a pocket full of gold, what’s your vice?”_ ) and makes her way over to his locker, pulling a few large bills from her pocket. She folds them up thin and kisses them cheekily -- then pushes them through the slats of his locker door.

So this is how things are now. Missy doesn’t seem at all displeased by it.

**INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY**

The rest of the number, starting with the chorus, unfolds in a sultry, slightly silly display of objectification and flirtation. The A class is up on the stage throughout, working through small group projects or practicing for their comfort zone assignment, while the techies are assembled discussing their own business. But Missy’s focus never strays from Lucas, keeping an intrigued eye on him as she mills about and dances around her classmates. The camera looks at Lucas in a way it never has before, from angles and close-ups that are much more about emphasizing his… attractive physical attributes than anything else.

While Missy makes her way around, she does a whole lot of flirting, though not with Lucas himself. Though her eyes never leave him, she teasingly touches just about every other boy present on the stage at some point. When she presses close to Nigel and musses up his hair, he looks confused and slightly unnerved until Jade defensively yanks him out of her hold.

She’s made it impressively close to Lucas as she’s locking down the last few lines without his notice, pulling another hundred dollar bill out. She slyly slips it into the back pocket of his jeans, pleased smile on her face.

Evidently, the lines between imagination and reality are pretty skewed throughout the performance. Although it’s not clear whether the almost-touch happened, the money she’s slipping his way like some sort of strange cat-and-mouse arrangement, and the satisfaction it seems to give her, is all too real.

* * *

Once her number winds down and she saunters back into the wings, Asher emerges from the other side of the stage to convene with Jade. She excitedly tells him she found just the thing for his assignment, if he is going to go with his performance idea. When Maya hears this as she goes by, she lets out a bark of a laugh.

> **Maya:** You gonna perform, Garcia? Are you sure you can even make it onto the stage without collapsing? How many times have you fainted now, like seven… hundred?

She proceeds to give him unsolicited advice, and not kindly at that, before flipping her hair and strutting on her merry way. Asher looks about ready to throttle her, but Jade pulls him back and towards the costume loft so she can show him her suggestion.

Redirecting her efforts to somebody more appreciative, Maya joins Isadora where she’s discussing techie-related things with Nate and Jeff. Maya has no problem interrupting them mid-sentence.

> **Maya:** It seems nobody else is up to the challenge of taking my advice, so I’m free to help you out now, Izzy.
> 
> **Jeff:** Help you out?
> 
> **Isadora:** _[ with a sigh ]_ Miss Burgess wants me to try to push myself this week and perform again.
> 
> **Maya:** And I think it’s a brilliant idea! _[ side-eyeing the boys ]_ You’ve been spending far too much time with the kingdom court jesters for my liking.
> 
> **Nate:** _[ ignoring Maya ]_ That sounds great, Dora.
> 
> **Isadora:** Really?
> 
> **Nate:** Yeah, you know we’ve got your back. And your performances are always a hell of a lot better than some of the so-called performers, so it’ll be a much needed reprieve.

Jeff nods in agreement, wishing Isadora the best with her task. Genuinely touched by their support and unsure how to express this, Isadora punches them both in the arm with a smile. They take it in good nature, Nate even ruffling her hair in return. Maya rolls her eyes at the antics, linking her arm with Isadora and dragging her away.

> **Maya:** Okay thank you, fools, that’s quite enough bizarre displays of affection. We’ve got work to do.

**INT. AAA - REHEARSAL STUDIO - DAY**

The pair take over an empty rehearsal studio, Maya taking a seat at the piano while Isadora stands awkwardly across from her.

> **Maya:** Okay! _[ clapping her hands ]_ I’ve been thinking a lot about what you could perform. Obviously this week is about taking a foray out of your usual genres, and you usually stick to more chilled R&B tracks. So I was thinking a big musical theatre number would be perfect.
> 
> **Isadora:** I’m not sure, I don’t really feel comfortable --
> 
> **Maya:** But that’s the point, darling! Getting out of your comfort zone. Push the boat out. _[ gets her phone out ]_ Here, I curated a playlist of potential songs. Do you know any of them?

Isadora moves to look at Maya’s phone and she scrolls through her playlist of power ballads and iconic numbers. Maya chirps happily about the various choices, while Isadora remains quiet.

> **Maya:** Oh, this one is perfect. Give this a go, Izzy.
> 
> **Isadora:** Now?
> 
> **Maya:** When else? This is why I booked us a rehearsal studio.
> 
> **Isadora:** _[ searching for an out ]_ Isn’t this meant to be for an ensemble, though? 
> 
> **Maya:** Any true diva has enough charisma to pull off both solo and group numbers. Which you are, and you do. Come on, just try it. No pressure, just have fun.

She presses play on the track, smiling up at Isadora in anticipation. But as the iconic piano melody of “Seasons of Love” plays, Isadora grows more tense. She opens her mouth when the vocals are due to start, but remains silent, clamming up.

> **Maya:** Okay, it’s okay, I’ll just restart it.

Just like the first week back all over again. Maya starts to rewind the track, but Isadora shakes her head, tearing up.

> **Isadora:** I don’t think I can do it, Maya. I’m sorry.
> 
> **Maya, disappointed:** Don’t apologize. We just haven’t found the right song yet. We’ll try again later. I’ll do a little more deep-diving… if we just find the perfect one...

Isadora smiles nervously, not entirely sure if that’s the case.

**INT. AAA - BLACK BOX THEATER - DAY**

Meanwhile, in the black box, Jade is back attempting to guide Lucas through his comfort zone take -- learning to costume. She tries to calmly talk him through the steps, voices quiet, but her patience is clearly thin. The needles just do not move smoothly in Lucas’s uncoordinated hands, and he’s already given himself a couple of pricks.

> **Jade:** You have to try --
> 
> **Lucas:** I am. I am trying --
> 
> **Jade:** Okay, if you just… but if you just try to thread the needle --
> 
> **Lucas:** I _am_ threading the needle.
> 
> **Jade:** Through what? The air?

It’s a noble effort, but a hopeless cause. It’s actually a relief when Farkle storms into the black box, disrupting their low, heated back and forth with his usual boisterous delivery.

> **Farkle:** Lucas James Friar, drop what you’re doing. I require your assistance.
> 
> **Lucas:** Oh, thank God. _[ dropping the sewing equipment and patting Jade on the shoulder ]_ Godspeed, thank you for your service.

Jade shakes her head, but she’s smiling. Honestly, it seems like if she doesn’t have to drag Lucas through the rest of this week, then good for her. She gathers the costuming materials together while Lucas joins Farkle, asking him what he wants. Farkle launches into a bright explanation of his plan for comfort zone week, that he’s finally cracked the perfect way to bend convention.

> **Farkle:** Riddle me this, Lucas James, what’s the one most underutilized medium in the scope of our performing class?
> 
> **Lucas:** … you realize who you’re talking to, right? I’m the last person you should ask a question like that.
> 
> **Farkle:** _[ with an eye roll ]_ Audio-visual performance. Sure, Yogi has that area of expertise basically conquered, but the rest of us have yet to tap into its vast potential. And it’s something I know I’ve _never_ dabbled in, which makes it the perfect vessel for my own genre exploration. Two zones expanded with one assignment.
> 
> **Lucas:** Okay. Sure, whatever you just said. What does that have to do with me?

Because, Farkle explains, if he’s going to make a music video, he’s going to need a director. That stuff usually falls to Isadora, which means Lucas could easily pass it off as his stretch for the week if he steps behind the camera. If they get Yogi to help, and cobble together a band for his number -- perhaps including Dylan, he suggests -- then they’re gearing up for a total comfort zone assignment domination.

Sounds like a lot of ambition and detail Lucas doesn’t care about… and yet Farkle makes some points. Besides, anything is better than costuming and those damn _needles_. Lucas considers the offer.

**INT. AAA - PROP LOFT - DAY**

Asher seeks comfortable refuge in the loft, meticulously rearranging some of the props on the tables. Riley is hanging out with him, brushing off discussion of her own assignment. She’s trying to broach a different topic instead, but it’s clear she isn’t sure how to go about it. But when she asks, Asher assures her she can ask him whatever, so she clears her throat and searches for the right words.

> **Riley:** How did you… when you and Dylan… how did you know you wanted to… do more. With him.

Asher raises his gaze from the props, eyeing her uncertainly. He raises his eyebrows.

> **Asher:** You mean more as in…
> 
> **Riley:** You know… physically. _[ off his awkward cough ]_ When did… how did you know that was something you wanted, and how did you go about navigating that shift?

Asher slips past her and focuses on the shelves instead, looking for something else to look at instead of her. He absentmindedly adjusts the hands on the ornate clock, pushing it back from the “9” towards the early hours.

> **Asher:** Um, you might want to talk to Dylan about this. He’s way better about, uh… well, he’s just better about talking about things than me.
> 
> **Riley:** Trust me, I want to. But I haven’t been able to find him all day. It’s like he’s gone completely MIA.
> 
> **Asher:** _[ with a sigh ]_ Oh, yeah. It’s because he’s off unleashing his dark side.
> 
> **Riley:** What does _that_ mean?
> 
> **Asher:** Don’t worry about it. Nothing illegal, as far as I know. _[ with a shrug ]_ It’s Dylan. So I guess you’re stuck with me.
> 
> **Riley:** That’s not a bad thing. Even if I did get the chance to ask him about it, I probably would’ve still sought out your advice, too. I really value your insight.

This seems to touch Asher, even if he’s hesitant. He makes himself face her and tries his best to address her question without imploding from embarrassment, but the flush in his cheeks makes it clear that’s not an easy feat. He expresses that the most instrumental key to his relationship with Dylan is communication, and that goes for every level of it. Emotional, mental, and yes, physical. Discussing it openly was the only way to explore effectively -- and also helped it feel less intimidating.

> **Asher:** I just feel like you have to be clear about what you want. During… stuff, obviously, but also to get anywhere in the first place. This is pretty easy for me and Dylan, just because… well, Dylan. You know him, he says everything he’s thinking. _Everything_. But if he hadn’t… I don’t know. If he wasn’t open with me, and encouraged me to be the same, I don’t know where our relationship would be at this point.

Insightful as always. Riley absorbs this, not surprised by its truth but already puzzling what that means for her. She thanks Asher, grateful for his openness with her, too.

**INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY**

Maya emerges from the dressing room hall, obviously in good spirits after asserting her managerial skills for the day. She’s cheerful when she sees Farkle and Isadora approaching. They wear matching smiles, mischievous and slightly unsettling. Maya doesn’t realize they’ve backed her into a corner until it’s too late.

> **Farkle:** We’ve been talking, Isadora and me, and we had an interesting thought.
> 
> **Isadora:** We think we’ve deduced the perfect way for you to maximize this week.
> 
> **Maya:** Well, that’s sweet of you both. But I’ve already figured out my plan, and there’s nothing else in the realm of performing I haven’t already mastered, so.
> 
> **Farkle:** Oh, we weren’t thinking about performing.
> 
> **Isadora:** And lucky for you, we’ve already arranged everything for you.

Foreboding smile still intact, Isadora pulls up a page on Farkle’s phone and hands it over to Maya. Whatever she sees on the screen sends terror through her very core, the cocky self-assurance wiped off her face. She gasps and nearly drops the phone, staring at the screen and then looking up at her two best friends, mortified.

> **Maya:** _No_!

We finally see what’s lighting up the screen -- a receipt confirmation on a webpage, a happy cartoon tooth holding a toothbrush and beaming happily. It’s an appointment confirmation for the dentist, the tooth proclaiming _“we can’t wait to see you and your pearly whites!”_

Maya opens her mouth to wail in true scream queen fashion --

**INT. BRIDGETTE’S APARTMENT - HALL - DAY**

Which becomes the buzz of a doorbell outside a modest but cozy apartment, BRIDGETTE GARDNER pulling open the door a few moments later. Charlie and ROSIE GARDNER are waiting on the other side, the latter obviously stunned and enthralled to be there.

Bridgette can’t help but smile the moment she sees them, though she attempts to maintain her cool, aloof attitude. She leans against her doorframe.

> **Bridgette:** Hey, Rosebud. Long time, no see.

Rosie doesn’t even speak, responding by barreling her with a hug. Bridgette lets out a surprised laugh and returns the embrace. Charlie watches fondly, glad to see them together again. Once they pull apart, Rosie regains her power of speech and starts firing off a million questions, so Bridgette redirects and invites them into the apartment to get settled.

**INT. BRIDGETTE’S APARTMENT - DAY**

A twenty-something’s apartment, with mismatched furniture and a scrappy quality to it, but still cozy and full of eclectic charm. She sets Rosie loose to take a look around for herself -- nothing off-limits, a huge change from the environment of the Gardner house -- and sets to throwing together a late lunch for them to share.

> **Charlie:** I didn’t know you cooked.
> 
> **Bridgette:** Oh yes, height of culinary luxury. _[ holding up the box ]_ Macaroni and cheese.

While they have a moment alone, Bridgette has Charlie catch her up on how things are going for him. Last she heard was that things were going okay with the Haverford boys in the aftermath of how horrifically the party he attended went. He gives her the quick take on everything from there, through his misguided and failed confession to the conversation with Riley and the fact that he might consider coming out to more people. Bridgette claims that must be a good thing, but Charlie isn’t so sure. There’s still something holding him back, obstacles his brain can’t seem to work around.

> **Charlie:** I feel like it’s like… I’m stuck on the permanence of it. Once I’m out, I’m out. And if I can’t even say it in confessional, then what makes me think I can tell a bunch of other people? I care about God, but I can’t bring myself to be honest with him.
> 
> **Bridgette:** Well, not to sound like your heathen sister, but God isn’t the one living here on Earth with you day-to-day. I don’t see what’s wrong with telling actual people in your life even if you can’t tell the flying spaghetti monster.
> 
> **Charlie:** Because it’s like… I mean, I don’t know. It’s like, I’m still scared to do it, but then when I don’t do it, when I lie, it doesn’t feel good anymore either. And yeah, I’ve told a couple of people, but if I keep doing that… every time I tell someone, it expands. That circle of knowledge grows. And if I keep letting it expand, eventually it’ll swallow me. I won’t be able to go back, I can’t ever take it back.

Bridgette gasps theatrically… then returns to her neutral expression. She shrugs.

> **Bridgette:** So?
> 
> **Charlie:** … _so_? What do you mean so?
> 
> **Bridgette:** I mean, look, I get that you’re thinking about this so hard because you’re you. That’s basically your thing. But for one, the idea that you can’t ever “take it back” is dramatic and untrue. People change their labels all the time, Chuckles, and not because they’re running back into the closet. Nothing about fluid self-identity is etched in stone forever. More importantly, I don’t see how that matters. Who knows -- God or human -- and how many know doesn’t change anything. Being gay is your truth. You already know it to be true. So you deciding to let more people know that part of you, to tell them, doesn’t suddenly make it _real_ or _permanent_ or whatever. It already is. The only thing that’s changing is who gets the privilege of knowing the truth.

A bit heretical, but spot on. Charlie absorbs this, the conversation abruptly ending when Rosie speeds back in and eagerly jumps into the conversation. Bridgette covers for Charlie and swiftly changes the subject when Rosie asks what they were talking about, their sisterly rapport seeming to snap back easily even after so much time apart.

**INT. ERIC’S APARTMENT - DAY**

Isadora arrives home after hanging out with her friends, Eric already set up at the dining table doing work. He looks up as she enters and greets him, offering her a tired smile.

> **Eric:** We got some of your mom’s belongings, by the way. I put the boxes in your room if you want to go through them.
> 
> **Isadora:** I don’t want to, but thanks.

Having shed her coat, Isadora goes past Eric and collapses on the couch, getting her phone out. Eric turns in his chair to look at her, brow furrowed.

> **Eric:** Is there any particular reason _why_ you don’t want to? You’ve been avoiding the boxes since they started showing up.

Isadora sighs, looking up from her phone. Her irritated expression softens slightly upon seeing the concern on Eric’s face.

> **Isadora:** I’m not avoiding anything. I just don’t want to. If you’re really worried, I’ll bring it up with my therapist in my next session, okay?

Eric is unsure, but doesn’t push her, agreeing that she should discuss it with her therapist.

> **Therapist, pre-lap:** What is it about the assignment that’s making you so anxious?

**INT. FRESCO ESTATE - CHAI’S BEDROOM - NIGHT**

Chai sits on her bed with her laptop resting on one of her many throw pillows in front of her. The evening is beginning to settle in and she’s dressed in more relaxed, comfortable clothes than we’re used to seeing her in. Her hair is pulled back into a ponytail, her face bare of makeup. This is Chai at her most vulnerable, especially considering she’s in the middle of a digital appointment with her THERAPIST.

> **Chai:** Because I know exactly what going out of my comfort zone would be and I... don’t want to do it.
> 
> **Therapist:** What is it?
> 
> **Chai:** Being real with people. Like, vulnerable and honest.
> 
> **Therapist:** And what’s holding you back from doing that?
> 
> **Chai:** I’m scared.
> 
> **Therapist, pressing:** _Why_?

Chai huffs, frustrated. It feels like the therapist already knows the answer, so why is she making her spell it out?

> **Chai:** Because being honest means telling everyone about the Confessions account.
> 
> **Therapist:** And why is that scary?
> 
> **Chai:** _[ like “duh” ]_ Because they’ll reject me? _[ softer ]_ I don’t want them to hate me, or just... cast me out. Even if I deserve it.
> 
> **Therapist:** But you told Isadora, and she didn’t hate or reject you, right?

Chai has to admit that she’s right. Her therapist continues, reminding Chai that she’ll never know how people will respond until she actually tells them. She then suggests that the distance Chai has been feeling between herself and her friends is probably because she’s keeping a secret from them. Telling the truth could be beneficial rather than a hindrance. Chai isn’t so sure about that, but accepts the differing opinion.

As the energetic hand claps kick in…

**INT. AAA - PROP LOFT - DAY**

* * *

**Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Buenos Aires” as performed by Glee Cast || Performed by Asher Garcia**

We’re close on a familiar pair of well-kept suede Oxford shoes, spinning and making their descent down from the prop loft as the instrumental revs up into the number. The pace is fast, lively, the backstage of the auditorium passing us by in a blur as the camera rushes to keep up.

Slowly, more and more of the performer is revealed as we pan up, finally landing on Asher’s determined expression as he emerges into the wings and sings the bombshell opening lines. His hair is combed to perfect, fluffy perfection, and a layer of eyeliner leans into the idea of breaking out of comfort and into the diva zone -- as well as making his eyes truly pop.

_What’s new, Buenos Aires?! I’m new!_

He convenes with Jade, who helps him shrug on the statement piece to top it all off -- a ridiculously bold, flashy, bright red faux fur jacket. Now he’s ready for action, looking like an homage to classic Freddie Mercury or Elton John but with an indisputable Asher Garcia twist. He gives Jade a grin and an affectionate pat on the cheek, then zooms away for the performance. Jade cracks up, shaking her head fondly.

As fun and fresh as his ensemble is, nothing can top the stunning quality of his performance. He flies through the vocals with surprising strength and disarming ease, like he’s just been carrying diva-level talent in his back pocket with his comb for the last three years (and maybe he has). His tenor is on key, vibrant, and packs a real punch when he wants it to.

The reaction to this secret powerhouse is mixed. Most of the performers just seem surprised, even mildly impressed -- save for Maya, who looks like she wants to knock him off the stage. Isadora pokes playfully at Farkle to react to this new tenor threat, but he merely closes his eyes and shakes his head, holding up a hand to halt her prompting. Keeping it cool, keeping it cool…

The techies are loving it, though, all of them cheering him on. Riley has a bright smile on her face, Lucas next to her torn between amazement and utter confusion. Does every one of his friends have concealed performer talent? But no one is more bowled over than Dylan, who watches the performance in a state of giddy, euphoric disbelief.

After his remarkable showing, Asher brings it home with a powerful belt on the last lines. He ends in classic diva pose, arms up and soaking in the spotlight, and it actually seems like he had _fun_ with it. The A class bursts into applause and the techies give him a standing ovation.

_Just a little touch of star quality!_

* * *

**_Break 1._ **

* * *

**INT. AAA - REHEARSAL STUDIO - DAY**

Maya and Riley meet to discuss her assignment, since the former has decided she’s her new performance coach. Riley starts by mentioning how great Asher’s performance was, but Maya cuts her off and explains that if she has to acknowledge his encroachment on her territory, she’ll have to declare war, and then they’ll really be in for blood.

So Maya shifts to the assignment instead, asking Riley what she’s thinking for the week and what her vibes are. When she starts to respond, though, Maya interrupts again, telling her instead what she _thinks_ she’s capable of pulling off. To be fair, she’s got high expectations for Riley, claiming that she could pack a serious performance punch if she just changed her approach and tried some new stuff. Although she’s hardly letting Riley speak, it’s evident that Maya _does_ believe in her potential. Nice, even if she’s bulldozing all over her.

When Riley finally manages to talk, she states that she thinks they’re on the same page. She’s been thinking of a similar step out of her comfort zone, going for something that feels more… powerful. Assertive. Not bowing down to others or letting herself or her wants fade into the background. This is true outside of performing, too…

But Maya is back on the idea wheel, spinning and spinning with those few words.

> **Maya:** I’m thinking Mariah Carey total diva-off. Or maybe Ariana belting arrogance. Or just showing off in general -- how quickly do you think you could learn a back handspring?

Yeah, that’s not gonna happen. Even though they’re aiming for the same concept, it’s clear Riley and Maya have very different visions as to what that means and how Riley can achieve it. It’s going to take a little more reflection…

**INT. AAA - TEACHERS’ LOUNGE - DAY**

Isadora pokes her head into the teachers lounge. A few teachers are dotted around, with Harper sitting on the couch drinking a mug of coffee. Nobody gives Isadora a second glance as she shuts the door behind her, knowing that she sometimes pops up in the lounge for space.

> **Harper:** Hey! How’s the comfort zone pushing going?
> 
> **Isadora:** Not good.

Harper’s cheerfulness melts, and she gestures for Isadora to take a seat next to her.

> **Harper:** I’m no Eric, but let’s talk. What’s going on?
> 
> **Isadora:** Sometimes that’s a good thing.
> 
> **Cory, in the background:** I’m telling him you said that!

Harper waves off CORY MATTHEWS. Isadora rolls her eyes at the playful jab before turning serious and explaining the situation to Harper. Whenever she attempts to sing, she clams up.

> **Harper:** Why do you think that is? I’m not asking in that therapist way where they’re trying to get you to reveal all your innermost secrets. _[ off Isadora’s eyebrow raise ]_ Oh, I’m well experienced when it comes to therapy. But I just want to know if there’s anything I can do to help?
> 
> **Isadora:** _[ with a sigh ]_ I honestly don’t know if there is. Singing just makes me think about Valerie, and I can’t do it. I know I’m like a broken record -- literally I guess, but...

Harper hesitates before speaking again, not sure if it’s her place to say this.

> **Harper:** Well... is that a bad thing? Thinking about her? It could be cathartic to sing -- let all those emotions out surrounding her death. I’m sure you’ve been lectured a million times about how bottling up your feelings is bad, but it’s true. And if you’re not ready to talk about them, expressing them through song is a great alternative in my experience.
> 
> **Isadora:** … I get that, but I’m really just not ready. Sorry.
> 
> **Harper:** No, no, no need to apologize. That’s totally valid. I’m always available to talk to if you need it, though.
> 
> **Isadora, smiling:** I appreciate it, thank you.

Harper gives Isadora a supportive pat on the arm before taking another sip of her coffee. As Isadora leaves, she gives a farewell to Cory, who returns the gesture with a cheerful wave.

**INT. DENTIST OFFICE - DAY**

Maya is reclined in the dentist’s chair, having just undergone her preliminary cleaning and oral examination. Farkle and Isadora are hanging by the wall, there for moral support but keeping a safe distance. Smart move, considering Maya is pretty feral.

> **Maya:** You two are so lucky you’re in my inner circle. This kind of betrayal? For anyone else? Death warrant.
> 
> **Isadora:** Wow. We’re really scared.
> 
> **Farkle:** You should be thanking us. When was the last time you came here? Like four years ago?
> 
> **Maya:** _Lucky_. I should strangle you, Farkle Minkus. Fortunately for you, I need to save that energy for the war against Garcia.

The DENTIST enters, greeting all of them before getting down to business. And the business isn’t pretty -- despite how great her starlit smile is, Maya’s teeth are not in top shape.

> **Dentist:** You have nine cavities.
> 
> **Isadora:** _Nine_? What have you been drinking, Maya, battery acid?!
> 
> **Farkle:** That’s what happens when you don’t go to the dentist.
> 
> **Dentist:** Quite right, young man. It’s good that you came in when you did, before much of this decay could proceed to the center of the tooth. Your current condition is salvageable, but we’ll need to work fast. We can get you in later this week to fill them.
> 
> **Maya, charmingly:** Oh, well, I’m not sure if that’ll work. I’m hardly sure I can afford such a procedure -- I’m poor, see -- so I suppose we’ll have to just clean them real good and hope for the best. Thank you for your time, though, and God bless us everyone.

The dentist stares at her, then looks to her friends. _She always like this?_ Farkle shrugs.

> **Isadora:** We can pay for it. This week would be perfect.

Great! Maya gapes at them, stinging with their continued betrayal. The dentist tells them he’ll get them to arrange the appointment with the front desk -- and they can tell them it’s priority. Then he hands Maya a goody bag of tooth care products and says he’ll see her again soon.

> **Farkle:** It’s for your own good, Maya.
> 
> **Maya:** You deserve to be guillotined. This is classism at its finest.
> 
> **Isadora:** Actually, the rich paying for the healthcare of the poor is exactly how the world should be.
> 
> **Maya:** Elon Musk and Grimes, the pair of you. You disgust me.

**INT. CHARLIE’S CHURCH - NIGHT**

Much of the church community has gathered for a charity event that evening, the Gardner family accounted for and represented as ELEANOR GARDNER is spearheading the effort. She’s wrapped up in the action but the kids are dawdling back by one of the tables, half-heartedly putting together care packages for the demographic they’re being charitable towards this week.

Charlie isn’t focusing very well, lost in thought. He glances towards the confession booth he ran from earlier in the week, then scans the assembled crowd until he spots the priest he thinks was listening at the time. He’s managed to avoid him all night, but he’s still on edge.

Rosie pulls him out of his own head, commenting on how boring this is. Especially compared to hanging out with Bridgette -- not that they exactly did anything super cool, but just seeing her felt like a rush. She asks what made Charlie decide to reach out to her in the first place, which he sort of shrugs off, but then this just cascades into more questions. How did he even know how to reach her? Would he have done it if he didn’t transfer? And why did he decide to transfer anyway? He clearly seems to be getting along with his new classmates, but does he keep up with the old ones? They still seemed way cooler, in her opinion.

Charlie intently focuses on putting together a care package while she rattles off questions, not really waiting for or expecting an answer from him. But he grinds to a halt when she offhandedly mentions that she heard someone in his class got hurt.

> **Rosie:** And maybe you’ll have better odds at the showdown thing, or whatever, now that Adams is down a dancer --
> 
> **Charlie:** What? _[ looking at her ]_ What did you just say?
> 
> **Rosie:** That you’ll have better odds at showdown? Because --
> 
> **Charlie:** No, after that. What do you mean ‘down a dancer?’ What are you talking about?

Rosie is caught off guard by his intensity, especially given how tuned out he’d been moments earlier. Her response is hesitant, now worried about saying the wrong thing.

> **Rosie:** I just heard this from Uri. Uri Minkus. We go to the gifted school together. He told me that he heard Farkle talking about how one of their best dancers got hurt, so now they’ve got to like reconfigure their whole plan --
> 
> **Charlie:** Zay? Was he talking about Zay?
> 
> **Rosie:** … I guess that sounds familiar? Yeah. He said he like messed up his foot, or something, I’m not entirely sure...

Charlie’s jaw hangs open, completely stunned. No… this can’t be right… this can’t be happening. It’s clear he’s astounded by this information, because Rosie is more concerned than she was before. He shakes his head, trying to wrap his head around it.

> **Charlie:** _Shit_.
> 
> **Rosie:** _[ glancing around them nervously ]_ Charlie --
> 
> **Charlie:** I… I have to go. I have to get some air.

He pushes past her, jogging towards the doors. She watches after him.

> **Rosie:** Charlie?

**EXT. CHARLIE’S CHURCH - NIGHT**

Charlie bursts through the doors and stumbles off to the side, pacing and trying to catch his breath. It’s not like he’s the one with the injury, but he knows all too well how damning one can be for a dancer.

> **Charlie:** Shit. Shit, shit, shit --

And he knows Zay. How hard he works, how brilliant he is, how his entire life is built around dance. His whole future. How he was supposed to be the one who changed the world.

> **Charlie:** … shit.

Charlie collapses back against the wall of the church, tilting his head back and closing his eyes. He takes a deep breath, knocking his head lightly against the stone, then exhales it out.

If the sheer notion of it is sending him into a panic, he can imagine how Zay must be feeling. All his problems and anxieties suddenly feel minuscule compared to this. And he knows they’re not like they were before, that he fucked it all up, but he can’t just do nothing. He pulls his phone out his pocket, going to his message thread with Zay that hasn’t been touched in months. Zay was the last one to send messages, Charlie letting so many of them go unanswered.

Untouched, but not deleted. He presses info and hovers over the call button, but still something holds him back. He isn’t sure he’s ready to hear him again, or if Zay would even want to hear from him after something like this… or ever again, really. He might be injured right now, but Charlie hurt him first. The last thing he wants to do is make it worse.

Even so…

**INT. BABINEAUX HOME - ZAY’S BEDROOM - NIGHT**

Zay’s phone buzzes on the nightstand, lighting up with a new text. He’s on his bed with his injured leg propped up on a pillow and his guitar in his lap -- which he hasn’t played in a bit -- trying out some chords, but he stops immediately when he glances over and sees the contact name. Another text comes in just as he reaches for the device, both from **“catholic demon.”**

He doesn’t waste a second, unlocking the screen and pulling up the thread.

_“I just heard. I can’t imagine how you’re feeling.”_

_“Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.”_

A third message comes through, almost like an afterthought, yet it lands the hardest.

_“I’m so so sorry.”_

It’s not fully clear what exactly Charlie is apologizing for. His injury? Them? Everything in between? In some ways, it doesn’t really matter.

Zay stares at the messages, conflicted. Hit with the same myriad of emotions he always is when it comes to Charlie, only lacking the loose freedom of alcohol to transform it into anger. Without that, he’s just left with having to process the… everything else.

The gentle guitar opening floats in…

**INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY**

* * *

**Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Self Control” as performed by Frank Ocean || Performed by Zay Babineaux**

Zay sits alone on the simply lit stage, on a stool with his splinted foot propped on a chair. He delicately strums his acoustic guitar, a little rusty on the strings but not at all lacking in the power of his voice. He breezes through the Frank Ocean ballad, delivering more emotion than usual through his expressions and vocals given that he’s constrained from using the medium he usually communicates through.

Though it goes unstated, it’s more than obvious to those few in the know what the song is about.

_You cut your hair, but you used to live a blonded life_

_Wish I was there, wish we'd grown up on the same advice_

_And our time was right..._

Even without the context, the performance carries a serious heft. Not that anyone doubted it would, considering what he’s going through right now, watching him sit there rooted when he should be up and dancing, but actually experiencing it makes it real. When he hits the bridge, that’s when the emotion truly resonates.

_I, I, I know you gotta leave, leave, leave…_

The performance doesn’t end so much as it tapers out, Zay’s exhaustion leaking through. He repeats the last lyrics of the bridge outro until he grows tired of it, leaving the final chords unplayed and the piece feeling unfinished. He glances up at his assembled classmates listening solemnly in the house, remembering they’re there, knowing they’re pitying him. So he looks back to his guitar, putting his fingers on the right strings but not playing anything.

> **Harper, sincerely:** Thank you, Zay.

Zay doesn’t look up, but he nods, swallowing hard. Not giving them any more than he’s already bared that afternoon.

* * *

A melancholic silence settles over the auditorium…

**INT. AAA - REHEARSAL STUDIO - DAY**

And is quickly disrupted by an aggressive, loud electric guitar chord. Farkle’s “band” is assembled for rehearsals of his music video project. While the genre he’s attempting remains a mystery, chances are it’s rock adjacent given the players. Dylan and Dave are both present with their guitars, tuning and running through chords like the one that welcomed us into the scene, and a drum set is arranged but vacant behind them.

NICK YOGI is also there, attempting to teach Lucas how to use the digital cameras from A/V club. Based on how Yogi is torn between bewilderment and hysterical laughter, it’s not going all that well.

> **Yogi:** No, you have to press -- press record. The big red one.
> 
> **Lucas:** I am!
> 
> **Yogi:** No you’re -- ha ha ha, what is wrong with you -- hold on. Let’s try it again. Listen _carefully_.

Lucas doesn’t appreciate being talked down to, but he puts up with it since he doesn’t have much of a choice -- least of all with Dave right there. Yogi has more Dave-devotion than even Lucas, so he knows not to push it.

Riley drops by to check out how rehearsal is going, or if they’ve started filming anything yet. Dylan points out they can’t because Lucas can’t figure out how to use the camera (which earns a middle finger from him), but Farkle has bigger concerns. He explains that they’re short a drummer, which they’re going to _need_ if he wants to pull off the right sound.

> **Farkle:** It’s preposterous, honestly. School full of musicians, and we don’t have one damn drummer.
> 
> **Yogi:** Actually, I think Emma Jan in B class --
> 
> **Farkle:** Not one! Not one drummer!

Quite the dilemma. Riley thinks on it, searching for a solution.

> **Riley:** I could ask Charlie if anyone at Haverford plays the drums. You know, if you _really_ want to step out of your comfort zone. Accept help from the _enemy_.
> 
> **Farkle:** I don’t appreciate your mocking tone, but you make points.

It’s not the worst idea in the world. In the meantime, Farkle will keep trying to teach Uri the basics in the off-chance he needs him to sub in. Isadora pokes her head in at that moment, scoffing when she sees the set up.

> **Isadora:** What is this, Guitar Hero?
> 
> **Farkle:** This is a feat of comfort-zone-shattering engineering, for your information.
> 
> **Isadora:** No kidding. _[ to Dave and Dylan ]_ And what’s your comfort zone being shattered here?
> 
> **Dave & Dylan: **Working with Farkle.

Farkle makes a face, letting them have the dig. Isadora asks Farkle if he has a few minutes to take a break, which he happily takes.

> **Farkle:** We’re waiting for Lucas to figure out the camera. Might be here forever.
> 
> **Lucas:** Okay, literally, fuck you --

The techies burst into laughter, Riley biting back a smile as she jogs over to help Yogi teach Lucas. Farkle raises his eyebrows at Isadora, who cracks a grin.

**EXT. AAA - LUNCH COURTYARD - DAY**

With Maya icing them out because of the dentist betrayal, Farkle and Isadora sit outside alone. They discuss Maya’s failed attempts of getting Isadora back into the swing of performing.

> **Farkle:** You could just explain to her how performing makes you feel.
> 
> **Isadora:** I’ve tried, trust me, but she doesn’t get it. How could she? Performing is everything to her.
> 
> **Farkle, musing:** It was everything to Valerie, too. Maybe that’s why you can’t do it, because you’re afraid of becoming like her. Like your issues with the inheritance money.
> 
> **Isadora:** Can you please not? Everyone in my life is acting like a therapist and I cannot deal with it.

Farkle chuckles, but then considers something.

> **Farkle:** Actually, speaking of therapy...
> 
> **Isadora:** Oh, God.
> 
> **Farkle:** Don’t worry, this isn’t about your mommy issues, but rather my lack of daddy issues. Potential lack of daddy issues. Possible daddy issues.
> 
> **Isadora:** I don’t follow. But I think you should stop saying daddy.
> 
> **Farkle:** My therapist seems to think that I’m avoiding discussing my mental health with my dad, and that that’s a problem. But I don’t get how. We have a great relationship, meanwhile you and Maya don’t even know who your dads are.
> 
> **Isadora:** Okay, first of all, our lack of fathers has nothing to do with you and your dad. Like, literally nothing. Secondly, the last time you kept your mental health issues to yourself, you ended up trying to kill yourself.

Farkle opens his mouth to interject, but Isadora holds up a hand to silence him. 

> **Isadora:** I know this isn’t the same, and that you have Dr. Han now, but it’s important for other people in your life to be aware of your mental state, too. Especially your dad, who’s so desperate to help you in any way he can. I know he was part of the problem before, being so busy and all that, but it seems like he’s really trying to change that. Your attempt wasn’t just a wake up call for you. _[ off his thoughtful expression ]_ Not everyone has someone willing to listen, so talk to him, Farkle.
> 
> **Farkle:** You’re talking, but all I hear is the pot calling the kettle black.
> 
> **Isadora:** What? Pots can’t talk. That makes no sense, Farkle.
> 
> **Farkle:** _[ with a sigh ]_ I’m saying that what you’re saying to me can also be applied to you. You refuse to talk to anybody about how you feel, besides that you feel like shit. But _why_ do you feel like shit, Isadora?

Isadora stares blankly at him while he gives her an endearing smile and blinks his eyes.

> **Isadora:** Stop turning the tables onto me. This is about you.
> 
> **Farkle:** No, it’s about you. Tell me, Isadora, how do you feel right now?
> 
> **Isadora:** I feel incredibly fucking annoyed with you.

She stands up and stomps away, Farkle jogging after her as he laughs and apologizes.

**INT. AAA - GIRLS DRESSING ROOM - DAY**

Chai is still feeling stuck on the assignment, so she seeks other opinions. She asks Darby what she’s thinking while the two of them are hanging out in the dressing room.

> **Darby:** Honestly, at this point, I kind of feel like me doing a solo at all is the comfort zone.
> 
> **Chai:** Why? You’ve sang before.
> 
> **Darby:** Yeah, I know. But it sometimes feels like… I mean, people can be so… it’s easy to fall into the background. And people aren’t shy about letting you know you belong there.
> 
> **Chai:** … yeah. I know the feeling.
> 
> **Darby:** That’s not to say I think anyone is like, mean or anything. That’s not what I was trying to say.
> 
> **Chai:** No worries, Darbs. I got it.
> 
> **Darby:** Okay, cool. Sorry. _[ a beat ]_ That’s one of my favorite things about Triple A, though, and the A class.
> 
> **Chai:** What?
> 
> **Darby:** That we can do an assignment like this. Occasional ickiness aside. Like, we can consider all these ways to push ourselves, that might make us uncomfortable… but we can handle doing it in front of each other. There’s something really safe about that, you know? We fight and we get into petty stuff and people make dumb decisions like every week, but we’re kind of a little family. A safety net of musical weirdos.

Chai hadn’t thought about it like that. The idea of being that vulnerable with anyone still feels impossible… but put like that, it seems a bit easier to swallow. Like even though she did petty, dumb stuff, maybe the safety net will still hold her if she confesses.

> **Chai:** You’ve got a pretty way of looking at things, Darby. Don’t know what this place would do without you.
> 
> **Darby:** Aw. Thanks, Chai.

She takes her hand, squeezing it affectionately. Chai smiles, clearly grateful for her friendship.

**INT. ORLANDO HOME - DYLAN’S BEDROOM - NIGHT**

Meanwhile, when he’s not playing guitar for Farkle, Dylan has been hard at work digging into Chai’s mysterious behavior. We see his investigative methods unfold in a quick cut montage, carrying the edgy, adventurous energy of a spy flick or hacker drama… while still being pretty undeniably Dylan Orlando. He starts with social media first, the glow from his laptop illuminating his face as he chews on a Twizzler. When he needs more energy, he downs a Pixy Stik like a shot and then jumps back into the game.

And Chai’s social media presence gives him a lot to work with. He’s looking at everything -- timestamps, captions, any time she was featured on the former _AAAC_ , which he can access via the Wayback Machine archive. What he’s digging for, we’ll never exactly know, but he’s definitely pulling substantial content together.

**INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY**

This also involves him getting intel via word of mouth, innocently chatting up underclassmen and friends of Chai to pick up information where he can. This includes Darby, who is happy to chat with him, and SARAH CARLSON, who is decidedly not. He even tries to source from Isadora, but she can tell something is up with him the moment he tries.

> **Isadora:** Since when do you care about Chai?
> 
> **Dylan:** I care about everybody. I’m a very caring person. I was named most caring in my elementary school yearbook three years in a row.
> 
> **Isadora:** That actually doesn’t surprise me at all.
> 
> **Dylan:** It’s my second greatest achievement.
> 
> **Isadora:** I’m guessing your first is… Asher?
> 
> **Dylan:** Affirmative. I just noticed you two were spending more time together, that’s all. I’m curious. I’m also a very curious person.
> 
> **Isadora:** I don’t know if I would call a few conversations spending time together.
> 
> **Dylan:** Conversation is a gateway drug, Dora.
> 
> **Isadora:** … you are acting so weird.
> 
> **Dylan:** I’m always weird. I’m a very weird person.
> 
> **Isadora:** Weirder than usual.  
> 
> 
> **Dylan:** Am I?
> 
> **Isadora:** You are.
> 
> **Dylan:** Aren’t we all?
> 
> **Isadora:** What?
> 
> **Dylan:** Hm?
> 
> **Isadora:** I’ve got a headache again.

**INT. AAA - LIBRARY - DAY**

He also does some careful undercover field work, pretending to be perusing the shelves as he eavesdrops on conversations Chai has with her friends.

**INT. GARCIA HOME - ASHER’S BEDROOM - NIGHT**

Back on his laptop, chomping on licorice and compiling all of his observations into a final conspiracy theory board type thought organizer. He’s working with intense concentration. Behind him, Asher watches him half-asleep, shaking his head.

> **Asher:** How come you can’t do your homework with this much effort?
> 
> **Dylan:** _[ waving him off and lightly patting his face in the process ]_ Shh.

Information compiled, Dylan hits “print.”

**INT. ORLANDO COMMUNITY CENTER - DAY**

With all the pieces now in his hands, Dylan tries to puzzle it all together by creating an actual mystery / conspiracy board on one of the bulletin boards in the community center. He tacks up receipts, notes from conversations, etc., and attempts to tie it all together in a way that makes sense with a roll of bright yellow string.

**INT. ORLANDO COMMUNITY CENTER - NIGHT**

The afternoon whittles away to evening and then night as he paces and moves things around, moving in fast motion. He also takes breaks between the speedy time lapse, laying on the floor and doing handstands and accepting takeout dinner from Asher as night falls. He hangs around for a bit before disappearing again, leaving Dylan alone.

Finally, after hours of brainstorming, Dylan cracks it. A metaphorical lightbulb goes on over his head, expression brightening when he thinks he’s put all the pieces together. He whoops in triumph, ripping one of the receipts off the board --

**INT. CHUBBIES - DAY**

Which is on top of the file he slaps down at the usual booth at Chubbies, sitting next to Asher and opposite Lucas as he shares his findings. He hypes his process up and builds suspense around his conclusion, claiming it took a lot of brain power, investigative journalism, and grit to arrive at this answer they’ve all been waiting for. When Lucas subtly nudges him to get on with it, he theatrically flips the file open.

> **Dylan:** Chai Fresco is part of the Illuminati.

Right… Lucas closes his eyes, already out of patience. Asher takes the files and starts flipping through the evidence as Dylan makes his case.

> **Dylan:** I’m surprised we didn’t realize it sooner, but they are sneaky. I mean, think about it. Constantly shady. Bizarre social media presence -- she’s definitely hiding secret messages in those captions. Knows everybody’s business, even stuff she conceivably shouldn’t. Disappeared for a whole year to a foreign country for undisclosed purposes.
> 
> **Lucas:** The student exchange program.
> 
> **Dylan:** That’s what they want us to think. And look, it’s right there in front of us. What’s Chai’s last name? Fresco. What’s “fresco” mean? A painting. Bitches hide all sorts of hidden messages in paintings. The Sistine Chapel stuff by Michelangelo is a fresco, and you know that shit is full of conspiracy.
> 
> **Lucas:** Since when?
> 
> **Dylan:** And her first name? _Chai_? What’s that mean? Tea. A drink commonly chosen by members of the secret society. Also, how many letters are in tea? Three. Three sides make a triangle. And triangles? _[ like that’s the mic drop ]_ Boom. Illuminati.

Dylan goes on to explain the reason she would be tracking Isadora is also obvious -- she wants another semi-famous recruit into their nefarious fold. She was probably aiming for Valerie, but Isadora is the next best thing. Lucas looks like he wants to bang his head on the table.

As… creative as Dylan’s conclusion is, his research isn’t worthless. As Asher picks through it, he starts to pick up on certain things, too. Like how the caption of the Isadora De La Cruz reveal post, back on the original _AAAC_ , is extremely similar to Chai’s own personal captions in terms of style and word choice. And like Dylan said, she did seem to just know things, according to multiple sources… and she never posted who was responsible for that specific post, even after she went and edited all the others to out people.

> **Asher:** What are the chances that she was the one who submitted that about Isadora? It would explain her fixation on her now -- if it’s just a returning habit.
> 
> **Dylan:** … well, I guess that’s plausible, too. Less fun, but…

Less fun, indeed. Lucas looks less than thrilled as he processes this possibility… and it gets worse when Dylan reminds them the other thing that happened to Isadora that year. Someone was selling information on her to the tabloids…

> **Lucas:** And I bet they’re willing to pay a fortune more now for a scoop after Val’s death.

Any levity Dylan’s conspiracy brought to the table is gone, all of them absorbing the potential danger Chai actually presents. If they’re right, then her interacting with Isadora is a lot more than just a nuisance.

> **Dylan:** What are we gonna do?

Asher and Dylan look to Lucas. He clenches his jaw, thinking, obviously trying his best to keep his anger in check. But when he raises his eyes to look at them, there’s a fire in them that signals this is not just going to drop.

**INT. HAVERFORD - DRESSING ROOM - DAY**

The boys are wrapping up a rehearsal for finals, changing back into their uniforms. BILLY ROSS and DWEEZIL HOWARD address Charlie as he’s halfway done buttoning his shirt, chuckling.

> **Billy:** Hey, C. Evan told us what happened.

Charlie immediately tenses, but he works not to show his panic. He’s feeling it, though, that same old usual terror that he’s just now debating whether he’s truly over or not. Based on this feeling, maybe not.

> **Charlie:** … oh? What did he say?
> 
> **Billy:** Yeah, man. The fact that he tried to cuff your friend from Adams? Hysterical!
> 
> **Dweezil:** And that you pretty swiftly shut that down. Iconic, honestly. Evan isn’t used to getting rejected, with the way he looks and all, so it’s so funny that she didn’t even do it on her own. He got sub-rejected by you instead.
> 
> **Charlie:** Oh, yeah. Ha ha.
> 
> **Billy:** I know, right? Like, getting rejected by Charlie? _Charlie_. God, so good.

Well, no clue what _that’s_ supposed to mean, Billy, but this is better than he feared. Charlie maintains his neutral facade until they head out and he’s left alone in the dressing room, getting the chance to process what just happened. He thinks he’s over it one minute, done playing pretend, desperate to start being authentically himself… and then something like this happens that starts the spiral all over again. Here, at church, in his own home.

He’s suffering, really. And it’s suffering that makes you question everything, even the things you thought mattered the most. Charlie releases an exhausted sigh and falls back against the counter, tilting his head back in exasperation just as the dramatic orchestration kicks off.

* * *

**Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Superstar” as performed by _Jesus Christ Superstar_ Original Cast || Performed by Charlie Gardner (feat. Haverford Boys)**

This climactic, sensational tour de force from the controversial rock opera follows the pattern of much of Charlie’s performances thus far this season. It’s a more stylized and outlandish rendition, playing into his imagination, the opening orchestral swells setting a grand essence for the scene as the camera eases out from Charlie’s lonely spot against the counters.

Then he whips around and faces the mirror, launching into the vocals. The first lyrics are less directed towards Jesus and more towards himself, Charlie scowling right at his own reflection as he spits them out ( _“Every time I look at you I don’t understand / Why you let the things you did get so out of hand”_ ). He stays confined to the dressing room on the first verse, only breaking free when the choir starts to jump in.

**INT. HAVERFORD PREP - HALLWAY - DAY**

To fill in those vocals, the Haverford boys join in, a sharp contrast to Charlie in their perfectly assembled uniforms while he’s running around half-dressed and far from put together.

When the choir takes over at around the one minute mark, it’s the Haverford seniors looking down at him from on high. They’re at the top of the staircase, BRANDON RIVAS at the center, casting judgment and questioning him from where he stands so small and alone down below. They ask him the same things he’s wondering of his higher powers.

_Jesus Christ, Jesus Christ,_

_Who are you, what have you sacrificed?_

When the orchestra swells again, Charlie grits his teeth, sprinting through the corridor under the staircase and disappearing.

**INT. HAVERFORD PREP - HALLWAY - DAY**

And when he reemerges, sliding out into the center of the hall, he’s even _more_ unorthodox. He’s suddenly dressed in a punk rock ensemble, befitting of the common [Judas](https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/594676704627261440/756643038406639757/unknown.png) [costume](https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/594676704627261440/756643027979862143/unknown.png) design from the musical. Tank shirt, frayed leather pants, hair teased and untamed. It’s the wildest Charlie has ever looked to date.

But by God, does he make it work. He leans fully into the high energy, tortured soliloquy, dancing his way through the halls in a freestyle fervor. And we’re talking _free_ free -- running along and jumping off the walls, dropping to his knees, rolling around on the floor. The split nature of his existence is finally tearing him apart, and boy does it make for a good performance!

Beyond the unconventional eccentricity of it, though, the message behind it is painfully simple and direct. It’s both a confrontation of himself and his beliefs, his actions and the actions of those regarded religious heroes that came before him. It’s a glaring question to the powers that be that will never give him an answer -- what if you’re not what they say you are? And who are you to tell _me_ how to be?

**INT. HAVERFORD PREP - STAIRCASE - DAY**

Charlie rounds out the passionate number on the staircase by himself, no longer the one being scrutinized but the one owning the space. He moves about it in the same fashion, with strong, frenetic movements. Leaning back over the banister, sliding and tumbling his way down the stairs, delivering all of the last runs and exclamations.

In all honesty, it’s genuinely just a blast to watch Charlie Gardner chew up the scenery for once -- even if it’s all in his own head.

* * *

**INT. ERIC’S APARTMENT - ISADORA’S ROOM - DAY**

A pile of cardboard boxes sits to the side of Isadora’s room, against her movie poster wall. They’re all taped up, having not been touched. Isadora stands in front of them, a knife in her hand. She stares intently at the boxes, a determined fire in her eyes.

> **Isadora:** No more avoiding, Isadora. You can do this.

She kneels down and pierces the tape of the box closest to her, slicing it open. Inside the box are a collection of paintings and pictures. The first one Isadora lifts out is a framed picture of Valerie posing dramatically in front of an orange sports car, dressed in a skintight black catsuit. Isadora rolls her eyes, placing it to the side. The next is a photo of Valerie with some friends (notably including Britney Spears and Jennifer Lopez) sitting around a fire pit laughing and drinking wine. None of them are aware that the moment is being captured, and the authenticity of it makes Isadora smile.

After taking out a painting of a Pomeranian dog with a halo and a rendition of “The Creation of Adam” with two women of color featured (one of whom looks suspiciously like Val), Isadora comes across a photo that we’ve seen before.

A young Valerie holding baby Isadora, adoration in her eyes as she looks down at her baby girl. Isadora sucks in a breath, reminded of when she looked around Valerie’s estate following her death. With shaking hands, she puts the picture down.

Isadora stands up and takes a step backwards, away from the boxes, breathing becoming difficult to control. She stares at the photo on the floor, eyes becoming unfocused and blurry with tears. Panicked by the surge of emotions taking over her, Isadora rushes out of her room and away from what’s left of Valerie.

**INT. DENTIST OFFICE - DAY**

Maya is in the hotseat for her fillings, Farkle standing by to hold her hand as she goes under anesthesia. Considering how many she has, it’s going to take a while, so best to just put her under to keep her tame. As the dentist tech prepares to administer the sedative, Maya directs her ferocious diva glare at them.

> **Maya:** No funny business, I’m warning you. I know how this goes. I’ve seen _Glee_.

The dentist tech blinks at her, lost and slightly unsettled, then looks to Farkle. He shrugs, a blithe smile on his face.

> **Farkle:** Ignore her, she’s crazy. You can put her under.

And so they do. Before she starts to fade, Maya tightens her grip on Farkle’s hand, then turns her dagger eyes on him.

> **Maya:** If I don’t survive this, it’s on you.
> 
> **Farkle:** It’s a filling, Maya, not brain surgery.
> 
> **Maya:** It’ll be my burgeoning career on your hands, never to be realized. I hope you’re happy. I hope you’re _thrilled_. I tell you… when I… _[ fading ]_ get out of… this… chair…

Farkle beams, patting her hand and giving her a gentle goodnight. His image grows fuzzy, then whites out as Maya succumbs to the anesthetic.

Oh, but her journey is just getting started…

> **Yindra:** Wake up… girl, wake up...

**INT. AAA - CLASSROOM - DREAM SEQUENCE - DAY**

Maya is asleep against a desk in the math and science classroom, dozed off the same way she was in the dentist’s office. Finally, someone nudges her, knocking her awake.

> **Yindra:** Darby, get up!

Maya snaps upright, disoriented. She doesn’t even realize the name slip, looking around in confusion.

> **Maya:** I’m in math?

YINDRA AMINO snorts from where she’s standing by her. Only… it’s not _really_ Yindra. Something about her is off… hair pulled back in a bushy ponytail… glasses on her face… wearing basic white girl clothes that she would never wear. She’s more snobbish than usual, too, responding to her query with more than enough snark.

> **Yindra:** Yeah, we’re going to performance lab now. I swear, it’s like you don’t have a brain in there half the time.
> 
> **Maya:** Wha --
> 
> **Yindra:** Anyway, let’s hurry up and go. You know how Maya gets extra bitchy if we’re late -- _especially_ now that she’s VP.

The rhetoric makes it clear -- Yindra is acting like _Sarah_. And she’s talking about Maya as if she’s not sitting right there in front of her. Maya blinks at her, bewildered.

> **Maya:** … Maya? But I’m --
> 
> **Yindra (as Sarah):** You know no one cares what you think, Darbs. Least of all Maya Penelope Hart.

With that, Yindra-as-Sarah saunters off, leaving Maya to absorb that statement.

> **Maya:** _Darbs_?!

She leaps to her feet, only to look down at her outfit. That tips her off that something must be wrong, staring at it in horror.

> **Maya:** Am I wearing _polyester_?

Panic setting in, Maya rushes to the door.

**INT. AAA - GIRLS DRESSING ROOM - DREAM SEQUENCE - DAY**

It takes her too long to get to a mirror, but lo and behold, when she gets a good look at her reflection she’s looking a little different. She’s not nearly as sleek as she usually is, fashion sense swapped out for a more bohemian, unassuming style. Her hair is less glossy and slightly frizzy, which she pushes behind her ears in terror.

It’s true. What Yindra-as-Sarah said is true. She _is_ Darby Winters.

Maya opens her mouth and lets out a blood-curdling scream.

**INT. AAA - BLACK BOX THEATER - DREAM SEQUENCE - DAY**

Maya treads cautiously as she eases her way into the black box to join her classmates, like the heroine in a horror movie. Based on her expression, she doesn’t like what she sees.

> **Maya, in fear:** I knew I should’ve trusted _Glee_.

Because everything is out of sorts, the rest of her classmates also discombobulated and swapped around. In a cluster of desks, the plastics are assorted, Yindra-as-Sarah having joined Nigel-as-Chai and Dave-as-Missy. The latter is dressed in highly expensive clothes and fans himself languidly with a personal, intricate folding fan, looking unimpressed. Isadora-as-Zay is dressed in cool threads and sits with laid back confidence, grouped with Darby-as-Yindra and Clarissa-as-Nigel in a woolen black turtleneck and short-cropped hair. Farkle-as-Riley is also with them, wearing her floral jean jacket and “L” necklace around his neck. From across the room, Zay-as-Charlie, in typical GAP fare, subtly watches Isadora-as-Zay from afar while Jeff-as-Haley and Nate-as-Clarissa carry on a conversation behind him.

The theoretical techie tots are grouped together, Chai-as-Dave in an oversized flannel listening as Sarah-as-Yogi explains something and fiddles with her handheld camera. Jade-as-Nate, hair curled and tucked under a beanie and dressed like a Supreme ad, obnoxiously picks on Missy-as-Jeff while Haley-as-Jade attempts to get him to knock it off. Ignoring their antics, Yogi-as-Isadora rolls his eyes, sporting a dark, wavy wig of Isa-like hair.

This is already a lot to take in, but it can only get weirder. Maya is startled when Eric addresses her -- only he’s not really Eric, either. Eric-as-Harper, in a spunky leather jacket, encourages her to take a seat so they can kick off class. Then he goes to the front of the room, joining the rest of the faculty… Harper-as-Jack looking stern and professional in suit jacket and tie, Shawn-as-Eric smiling at all of them and looking more approachable than should be possible for him, and finally, Jack-as-Shawn, looking shockingly unkempt with five o’clock shadow, a beat-up brown leather jacket, and a distinctly bored expression.

> **Eric (as Harper):** Okay. Now that we’re all here, let’s get down to business.
> 
> **Jack (as Shawn):** Do I need to be here? Can I go?
> 
> **Harper (as Jack):** Remind me why I haven’t fired you yet.
> 
> **Eric (as Harper):** With finals for showdown fast approaching, we want to make sure we’ve got the best performances we can under our belt. So I’m going to turn it over to Mister Minkus, who has proposed a new concept for our final number. Farkle?

When Maya sees who gets up to move, her eyes widen in shock.

> **Maya:** What the fuck --

_Lucas_ has risen, dressed in a fitted blazer and hair coiffed to perfection. He offhandedly thanks Eric-as-Harper and steps up to the front, Riley-as-Maya applauding him forward and obviously invested in the idea he’s about to pitch. Maya can’t look away from her, suddenly a carbon copy of her -- sleek, blonde hair, faux-designer fashion, smug and absolutely gleaming with self-satisfaction. Only Lucas-as-Farkle launching into a manic, pretentious monologue can snap her out of it, especially with how jarring it sounds coming from his gravelly baritone.

> **Lucas (as Farkle):** Thank you, thank you. Now it’s not that the production we put on for semis wasn’t passable -- it sure got us through to finals, though that’s not difficult considering the amateurs they presented to compete against us.
> 
> **Riley (as Maya):** _[ twirling a piece of hair on her finger ]_ Amateur hour.
> 
> **Lucas (as Farkle):** But if we want to win come December, then we need to pull out all the stops. I didn’t survive the events of last year just for us to kill ourselves in presentation. This is our _Moby Dick_ , people, and for the love of all that is unholy, we are going to skewer that great white whale.
> 
> **Chai (as Dave):** Why are we talking about Europe?

As Lucas-as-Farkle continues, his perspective is that to do so, they need to put their best performers at the forefront of that. From a corner of the room, another voice speaks up, totally baffling Maya.

> **Charlie, flatly:** So another Farkle Minkus screech-fest. Awesome. Bet they’ll never see that one coming.

Maya whips around, unsettled. It’s not Charlie being uncharacteristically uncouth, but Charlie-as-Lucas, dressed in dark clothes and snapback on. He’s leaning back against Harper’s desk, flanked by Dylan-as-Asher on one side and Asher-as-Dylan on the other. It’s weird to see Asher so smiley and loose in a sweatshirt and bright yellow, but it’s even weirder to see Dylan so polished and put together, subconsciously nitpicking his combed hair.

> **Charlie (as Lucas):** Seriously, do you ever get tired of self-promoting? I’m amazed that alone didn’t kill you.
> 
> **Lucas (as Farkle):** For your information, Jackass, I wasn’t talking about me.
> 
> **Zay (as Charlie):** Come on, guys. Don’t argue.

Maya blinks at Zay-as-Charlie, sensing that something about his presence isn’t quite right. She points at him, eyes narrowed in thought.

> **Maya:** You’re not supposed to be here?
> 
> **Riley (as Maya), cocky:** I’m sorry, when did we promote you to speaking level?

Maya’s jaw drops again, unprepared to have her usual lines thrown back at her. Lucas-as-Farkle moves on without her, because she’s Darby, and obviously she doesn’t matter anymore. He states that in terms of their winningest performer, the answer is _obvious_ , before beckoning Riley-as-Maya to join him. She leaps up happily, taking front and center and declaring that she’s already got the new approach all figured out.

> **Riley (as Maya):** I’ll run you through the basics. You’ll all catch up as we go… [ flipping her hair ] That is, if you can keep up.
> 
> **Isadora (as Zay):** Boo.
> 
> **Dylan (as Asher), under his breath:** What a bitch --

Maya watches around her, still in a daze, as the number kicks off.

* * *

**Song Cue ♫ ♪ “There She Goes! / FAME” as performed by _Fame!_ Original Cast || Performed by Riley Matthews (well… sort of) & AAA Seniors**

Riley-as-Maya launches into the brassy vocals, delivering them with Maya’s usual level of bravado. It’s impressive, actually, how she can match her diva pitch when given the opportunity -- and without her habitual hesitation holding her back. She makes her way through the classroom and pulls her classmates into it, but Maya gets overlooked and left behind.

Realizing that this situation is crazy, Maya determines that she needs to talk to herself -- well, Riley-as-Maya -- in an effort to get out of this nightmare. But that’s easier said than done, as Riley-as-Maya is lost in the whirl of a performance, their classmates creating chaos of dance around them. Maya has to chase them out of the classroom…

**INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DREAM SEQUENCE - DAY**

And into the halls, where the sequence continues. It’s amusing and jarring to watch everyone take on each other’s roles, Lucas-as-Farkle in the eye of the performing storm for once (though strategically not focused on), Isadora-as-Zay taking on dance solos during the dance break, Farkle-as-Riley and Charlie-as-Lucas lightly dancing together in the background during the pas de deux choreography.

And amidst it all, Maya gets swallowed and disappears into the crowd, no one even noticing her attempts to reach Riley-as-Maya. Exactly how Darby must feel every day… but that being said, the rendition does slap!

* * *

**INT. CHUBBIES - DREAM SEQUENCE - DAY**

The bell jingles, Charlie-as-Lucas looking up from his spot behind the counter. He smiles just slightly as Farkle-as-Riley greets him cheerfully, leaning over the counter to give him a peck on the cheek. The two of them settle into chatter as Maya nervously makes her way into the diner. She scans the establishment, clearly on edge, Riley and Lucas’s chatter dwindling as they turn their attention to her.

> **Charlie (as Lucas):** What the hell is up with you, Winters? You seem even more skittish than usual.

Maya looks to them, still unable to process Charlie Gardner being a jackass, so she simply makes an indistinct noise and shakes her head, holding up a finger to silence him. She walks past them, Charlie-as-Lucas shrugging.

She finds what she’s looking for in the back of the diner at the usual booth, Riley-as-Maya hanging out with Lucas-as-Farkle and Yogi-as-Isadora. They’re laughing about something, gossipy, but they quiet down as Maya approaches. Lucas-as-Farkle and Yogi-as-Isadora glance at her, unimpressed, while Riley-as-Maya doesn’t seem to notice her at all until she clears her throat.

> **Maya:** Um… _[ painfully ]_ Maya? Could I talk to you for a second?
> 
> **Riley (as Maya):** Is it necessary? I’m trying to have a strategizing session here so we don’t blow it at finals. You get that, right?
> 
> **Maya:** No, um… it can’t wait. It’s pretty urgent.

Riley-as-Maya releases a sigh, then nods to the others. They get up from their seats to give them space, Yogi-as-Isadora casting another judgmental look over his shoulder before they go join another group to chat. Maya awkwardly slides into the booth, so unaccustomed to being the one out of her element and out of power. Riley-as-Maya seems uninterested even before she opens her mouth, so Maya knows she has to think on her feet.

> **Maya:** Really stellar performance today. Like… so cool.
> 
> **Riley-as-Maya:** You’re so sweet, Darbs. You state the obvious, but it’s sweet.

Maya stares at this version of herself, supposedly seeing herself from the outside looking in. She’s not quite introspective enough to see _fault_ , per se, but she can acknowledge what she thinks her subconscious is trying to communicate. If she wants to succeed, if they want to become showdown champions and create real change at AAA, then she’s going to have to adjust her viewpoint.

So, carefully, Maya uses her unassuming presence as Darby to make suggestions to herself. She sugarcoats it around compliments and praise, but hits the point eventually.

> **Maya:** I just think it might be wise to consider… listening to the voices of other people. And sharing the spotlight -- you know, specifically when strategic. And potentially being nicer to your allies.
> 
> **Riley (as Maya):** Because…
> 
> **Maya:** Because they’re the ones who are going to be there whether we win or lose. And, more importantly, you need them to succeed. _[ a beat ]_ It doesn’t feel like it, but this year is going to come to an end. And who knows where you’re going to be, even if you’ve got the great big plan. Might as well take advantage of the stability that comes from the world we know right now, with these people. _[ scrunching her face ]_ You know, just a suggestion. Just an idea.

Riley-as-Maya considers, thoughtful. Calculating, recalibrating the odds, but thoughtful nonetheless. Then she smiles.

> **Riley:** All right, sure. I’ll think about it. _[ a beat ]_ I never noticed before, Darbs, but you’re so good at persuasion. And I have to say, you’re looking really pretty today.
> 
> **Maya:** Oh, well, _[ flipping her hair over her shoulder ]_ I know.

A hissing leaks into the soundscape, starting to take over. The image grows fuzzy as white light bleeds onto the screen, obscuring everything into oblivion.

> **Dentist, far-off:** Here she comes… there we go. Welcome back, Maya.

**INT. DENTIST OFFICE - DAY**

Maya rouses from her dream state, slowly getting her grip back on reality. She’s a little loopy, but cognizant. The dentist congratulates her on surviving, telling her that her teeth are right as rain again. Then he turns her over to Farkle while he goes to get the tech to wrap things up.

Maya dramatically reaches out for Farkle’s hand, pulling him towards her into a strangled hug. She claims it’s such a comfort to see him again, taking his face in her manicured hands.

> **Farkle:** God, how many drugs did they pump into you?
> 
> **Maya:** I’ve seen things, Mink. I’ve learned things. Look at you. Look at you, looking how you’re supposed to look. Pale, and pinched, and bony. _[ blissfully ]_ God, it’s a marvel how bony you are. I’m so glad.

**INT. ERIC’S APARTMENT BUILDING - STAIRWELL - DAY**

Arriving home, Eric finds Isadora sitting on the top step outside their apartment with her head in her hands. She kicks her heels repeatedly against the steps and clutches her hair tightly.

> **Eric, gently:** Isadora? What’s going on?

Isadora peeks up at him through her fingers and we see that her face is red and blotchy from crying. Eric sighs sympathetically and crouches down to be at her level. She lifts her head up properly and meets his eyes.

> **Eric:** Why are you out here?
> 
> **Isadora:** I needed to get out of the apartment, but then I didn’t know where to go. _[ a beat ]_ I tried to go through Val’s boxes, but then I saw that baby photo of us again and... I just felt a lot of emotions and couldn’t do it anymore.
> 
> **Eric:** What emotions were you feeling?
> 
> **Isadora:** First I felt sad. Then I felt guilty for living here with you when I should be with her. And then... _[ chews her inner cheek, hesitant ]_ then I felt angry. Why do I feel angry?
> 
> **Eric:** That’s something only you can answer. _[ a beat ]_ How about we go inside? I’m too old to stay in this position for much longer.

Isadora laughs and wipes away the tears still on her face. She helps pull Eric up and they go into the warmth of the apartment building.

**INT. ERIC’S APARTMENT - DAY**

Eric dumps his jacket and briefcase, following Isa to the couch.

> **Isadora:** I think I know why I’m angry.
> 
> **Eric:** Do you want to talk about it?
> 
> **Isadora:** Not... not yet. But soon.
> 
> **Eric:** That’s good. It’s definitely something you need to address. The stronger the emotions are that you keep bottled up, the more unhealthy it becomes.

Isadora nods. She shuffles along the couch to snuggle next to Eric, hugging him from the side. He’s surprised, and puts an arm around her shoulders. 

> **Isadora, quietly:** I’m glad I have you to talk to. Sorry I don’t tell you what’s going on in my mind very much.

With a soft smile, Eric squeezes her shoulders. She pulls away from the side hug, a bittersweet expression on her face. Even though she lost Valerie, she gained Eric, and that’s something to be happy about.

**INT. AAA - ATRIUM - DAY**

Dweezil makes his way into Adams, the first Haverford boy to cross into their territory in probably decades. He’s got drumsticks in his hands. Farkle comes over to greet him with Riley in tow, there as a liaison. Dweezil tells Riley he’s heard a lot of good things about her, then lets Farkle lead the way towards rehearsal for this project or whatever.

> **Farkle:** Certainly. Thank you for your time, by the way. I should warn you, what you’re about to see might not be pretty -- I’m working with multiple people who don’t know what they’re doing or simply lack standard brain capacity, and this whole assignment is about basically doing the things we’re _not_ equipped to do --

Farkle continues to ramble on as they go. Dweezil half listens, more interested in getting a good look around at the competitor’s inner walls.

**INT. AAA - ERIC’S OFFICE - DAY**

Meanwhile, Lucas has been called in to have a meeting with Eric. He’s surprised to discover Jack there as well when he arrives, clearly not sure what they’re supposed to be talking about. He settles into the chair opposite Eric’s desk.

> **Lucas:** If you were going to get on me about the disciplinary stuff, your ideal time was like last year. Should’ve kicked me out when you had the chance -- or at least, not let me become president.
> 
> **Eric:** Oh, no. No, this isn’t about that.
> 
> **Lucas:** Okay… so?
> 
> **Eric:** Nothing about this is _trouble_ , you know? I just want to make that clear. We’re not judging you in any capacity, we just want to have an open, constructive conversation about this so that everyone can walk away feeling more confident and informed.

Okay, _now_ he’s got Lucas spooked. He slouches a bit in his chair, getting smaller in defense, before questioning again what Eric is even talking about. To avoid more counselor-isms, Jack nudges Eric.

> **Jack:** Just get to the point, Eric.
> 
> **Eric:** Right, right. Okay. Of course.

Lucas eyes him warily as Eric reaches behind him to grab a care package, sensing doom before it arrives. Then Eric places the small collection in front of him -- a couple of informative pamphlets… and condoms.

A sex-ed care package. It’s a sex-ed care package. Lucas leans away, repulsed.

> **Lucas:** Oh my _God_ , what the hell?

Eric quickly tries to temper his discomfort, explaining that this doesn’t have to be embarrassing. Nothing about sexual health is embarrassing! He and Jack just want to make sure that he knows everything he needs to know to explore safely, and give him the chance to ask questions… but Lucas is so mortified there’s no way that’s happening. He leaps up from his chair, darting behind it like it’ll protect him from the conversation.

> **Jack:** After what happened on Monday, I realized things are more serious between you and Riley than I thought. And I don’t know how much you know --
> 
> **Lucas:** Oh my God, I’m not a _Mormon_!
> 
> **Jack:** And so I consulted with Eric to make sure that you got the proper information that you needed.
> 
> **Lucas:** This can’t be happening. I’m dreaming. This is a nightmare. Someone hit me and wake me up.
> 
> **Jack, sternly:** This is not a nightmare, and no one is _hitting_ you. _[ pointing to the chair ]_ Now sit back down and let your counselor educate you about contraceptive!

Lucas shudders, shaking his head. He claims he has somewhere else he has to be anyway, and if he stays in there any longer he’s literally gonna decompose into radioactive waste. He rushes out of the room without waiting for a dismissal, effectively scarred. Jack shouts after him.

> **Jack:** At least take the care package!
> 
> **Eric:** _[ awkwardly patting his arm ]_ You tried.

**INT. AAA - REHEARSAL STUDIO - DAY**

Riley is regrouping with Maya about her assignment, gearing up to defend her ideas against the blonde bombshell. But when Maya kicks off their meeting, she’s surprisingly demure, allowing Riley the floor to discuss what she interprets the assignment as and how she wants to achieve stepping out of her comfort zone.

It’s nice, and all… but so out of character. Riley starts to talk, but then stops, concerned.

> **Riley:** I’m sorry, I’m just -- are you sick? Like, do you need to go to the nurse?
> 
> **Maya:** Oh, I’ve seen enough doctors for one week, Riles. _[ solemnly ]_ I’ve seen too much.
> 
> **Riley:** … okay…
> 
> **Maya:** But what I saw was important. I had a bit of a “coming to Me-sus” moment --
> 
> **Riley:** I think it’s coming to Jesus…
> 
> **Maya:** And I realized that while my talent is plentiful and crucial… there might be talent within the rest of my cohort, too. And that I may have been… a bit of a bulldozer. Over that talent. _[ a beat ]_ With good intentions, and sometimes that drive is necessary. I maintain that Lucas would not have cinched the presidency without me.
> 
> **Riley:** Well, I wouldn’t say --
> 
> **Maya:** But it might be beneficial to listen sometimes, too. Sometimes. That’s what a good manager would do, at least. Hear what the client wants.
> 
> **Riley:** That’s nice. Like, actually nice.
> 
> **Maya:** I know. I’m a changed woman. _[ gesturing for her to speak ]_ So go on. Tell me what you’re thinking, and we’ll find the perfect way to ace it.

Riley hesitates. Now that she’s been given the opportunity, she finds that it’s hard to articulate. Not just because Maya is intimidating no matter how much of a changed woman she is, but mainly because it’s hard to assert yourself and speak your mind -- especially for her.

But then, that’s exactly it. She explains it to Maya cautiously, that she knows there are things she wants and ways she could stand out more, and she wants to be able to reach for it. But it’s hard to push her boundaries like that, to overpower the people-pleasing, doormat part of her personality that’s been crafted so well by her parents and classmates and the world. Even if she thinks she could be assertive, confident, knowing her worth, it’s still hard to do. Even in situations that she otherwise feels completely comfortable in.

Maya asks if she has an example, to which Riley really gets quiet. She knows exactly what she’s thinking about this week, what she’s struggling to articulate that she wants -- but she thinks talking about Lucas with Maya might be the dumbest decision she could make. However, Maya isn’t stupid, and her silence basically answers the question for her.

> **Maya:** Oh, gross. This is about Friar, isn’t it?
> 
> **Riley:** Um, well, no…
> 
> **Maya:** You are such a bad liar. But anyway, I’m sorry, that was rude of me. I mean, it does disgust me, but I don’t have to vocalize it when we’re talking about you. _[ with a dramatic breath, cleansing herself ]_ I’m guessing this has nothing to do with most of your relationship, since he’s so whipped for you he basically does whatever you say, so what’s the issue?

Riley seems surprised by _that_ take, as that’s not how she’d put it, but she chooses not to focus on it. She tries to find the best way to say what she’s thinking about without disturbing Maya, agreeing that her relationship with Lucas _is_ good. It’s not that there’s anything _wrong_ with it, but she just… wants things to be… more. To deepen that partnership, in a number of ways.

> **Maya:** _[ gagging lightly ]_ That’s quite enough. I got it. You want to be depraved.
> 
> **Riley:** That is _not_ what I said.
> 
> **Maya:** Sorry, just give me a -- _[ retching pointedly ]_ Okay. I’m better now. But honestly, this seems like kind of a dumb problem to have.
> 
> **Riley:** Dumb? Why?
> 
> **Maya:** Because you’re stressing about it so much! Like I said, Friar listens to you -- sometimes, you’re the only person he listens to. He’s just as into you as you are him -- which makes more sense than you, him, but I digress. This is not the dark ages or the 20th century where women are subservient and wait for the man of the house to make the calls. If you _want_ something from Lucas, then don’t wait around for him to do something about it. You’re a smart, powerful, smoking hot woman, and this is the 21st century. If you want something, then you go and you get it!

Digs at Lucas aside, Maya’s monologue actually makes sense. Riley absorbs it, considering her encouragement. All things considered, maybe her biggest obstacle really is herself.

Maya continues to brainstorm. Now with context, it’s suddenly a lot easier for her to conceptualize a way to tackle the assignment. She brightens, claiming that she’s got an idea.

**INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY**

Dylan and Asher are waiting outside the lecture hall, glancing through the windows. Lucas finally joins them, still slightly frazzled from his meeting with Eric. Asher notices, asking what’s up with him, but he brushes it off.

> **Lucas:** Suffice to say, I’m ready to do this. You got the evidence?
> 
> **Dylan:** _[ holding up his folder ]_ Locked and loaded.
> 
> **Lucas:** Great. _[ determined ]_ Let’s end this shit.

**INT. AAA - LECTURE HALL - DAY**

Chai is studying in the lecture hall, alone at a table at the end of the hall. She looks up when she hears the door open, kicking off the orchestrations.

* * *

**Song Cue ♫ ♪ “We Know” as performed by _Hamilton_ Original Broadway Cast || Performed by Lucas James Friar, Asher Garcia, Dylan Orlando, & Chai Fresco**

_[ Lyrics specific to characters -- follow along[here](https://docs.google.com/document/d/1iPvJZeMZ662wcCpiF85p89eObbSvUeLEa3Yw6dhtHFY/edit?usp=sharing)! ]_

My last true attempt at pretending to be Lin Manuel, this _Hamilton_ inclusion rounds out the election-time triad and also includes custom lyrics to fit the situation. So highly recommend following along so that they’re talking about Chai selling Isadora to the press, not extortion from the 1800s.

Chai addresses each of the boys as they enter, growing increasingly intrigued -- and suspicious -- with each new player introduced.

> **Chai:** _Mister Orlando. Mister Secretary. And_ President _Friar… what is this?_

The boys launch into their interrogation, starting off smug and casual as they hold up their file of evidence. They’ve got her, they declare, and based on what she did, she may as well flee back to London if they’ll still take her. Chai seems seriously concerned by these comments, looking caught, until they drop the file on the table and she gets the chance to look at it. What they’re accusing her of is something she didn’t even do. She slaps the file closed, dismissive.

> **Chai:** _Ha! You don’t even know what you’re asking me to confess._

Lucas leans forward on the table, Asher and Dylan leaning over his shoulders on either side.

> **Lucas/Dylan/Asher:** _Confess!_
> 
> **Chai:** _You have nothing! I don’t have to tell you anything at all…_

Chai realizes that if they got this close, there’s no telling when they’ll stumble upon the truth. And clearly, they’re not going to be as merciful as Isadora. Not to mention the terror when she felt like they did know the truth, when the narrative suddenly became out of her control...

> **Chai:** _Unless…_
> 
> **Lucas/Dylan/Asher:** _[ Dylan looking especially confused ] Unless?_
> 
> **Chai:** _If I can prove I never sold Isa to the press, do you promise not to tell another soul and let this rest?_

After Asher reminds Lucas only she can confirm the truth, they agree. Reluctantly, Chai reaches into her pocket and pulls out her phone. She opens a specific album of photos, sliding the device across the table so they can look at it. Lucas picks it up gingerly, not sure what he might find.

Whatever he anticipated, this is not what he was expecting. Maybe it should’ve felt obvious, but it’s still a shock to see. Screenshot from the days of _AAAC_ , from the _other_ side -- message exchanges with classmates, post drafts, the moderator view of the account. Proof that Chai was the creator and moderator, but not necessarily culpable for anything more than that. Evidence to protect her own ass, if something got worse in the future.

Dylan and Asher take the phone and continue to go through it, dumbstruck, while Chai makes her defense to Lucas. He seems unimpressed, and pissed, considering _AAAC_ very effectively contributed to his own ruin last year. But he hears her out, listening to her whole cover story, until she concludes with sharp ferocity.

> **Chai:** _Are my answers to your satisfaction?!_

The truth settles over all of them, heavier than they thought it would be. Dylan is still stunned, holding the phone in his hands.

> **Dylan:** _Holy shit._

Asher takes the phone from him and drops it back on the table, disgusted. He takes Dylan’s arm, turning him around to go. When Chai questions if they’re going to keep quiet, they concur, though they don’t seem pleased about it. Lucas starts to go as well, but Chai stops him, coming out from around the table to confront him. Though she’s not aggressive, more like pleading as she searches for compliance and silence from him, too.

> **Chai:** _Friar. How do I know you won’t use this against me the next time we go toe-to-toe?_

Lucas glares at her, then shrugs.

> **Lucas:** _Rumors only grow. [ pointedly ] And we both know what we know._

* * *

That’s not a convincing agreement of silence at all, though not a guarantee he’s going to tell on her either. He exits, leaving Chai to stew in the aftermath on her own.

She falls back against the table, releasing a labored sigh and trying to keep calm. This isn’t how she wanted things to get out -- though she knows she hasn’t been making much of an effort to share it in her own way either. But she doesn’t want Lucas to be the thing that lets it slip, to give him the final word. If this is going to happen, she wants it to be on her terms. Maybe something she should’ve done a long time ago.

Still, it’s scary. The anxiety of it hangs over her as she takes another breath, closing her eyes.

* * *

**Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Prom Queen” as performed by Catie Turner || Performed by Chai Fresco**

Flowing pretty seamlessly from “We Know,” this gentle soliloquy is sort of like the Part 2 of the confrontation. Chai opens her eyes, and begins her performance by declaring herself an “iceberg.” Still leaning against the table, her face remains stoic as she sings.

_I’m holding on_

_But barely, plagued by teenage popularity_

She walks around the empty lecture hall before exiting into a busy hallway.

**INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY**

Chai walks through the lively groups of students, skirting out of their way and dancing around them. Her features remain blank, dazed, floating through life rather than living it.

_I’m a wanderer, I weave my way_

_But dancing in hopes that the cool kids will ask me to stay_

The lighting changes, the hallway flooded with darkness except for spotlights that follow the most charismatic of the students that are walking by. Chai remains on the outskirts of the spotlights, shadow and light dancing across her.

**INT. AAA - GIRLS’ DRESSING ROOM - DAY**

She arrives in the dressing room, where Missy, Darby, and Sarah are waiting for her. She sits in front of a mirror as the three of them surround her, doing her hair and makeup.

_Burn the sash and smash that tiara_

_No that’s not me, I’ll never be prom queen_

Darby places a delicate tiara atop Chai’s head, cooing over how beautiful she looks. Chai stands up, now in a classic prom dress, and walks out into...

**INT. PROM VENUE - DAY**

An empty prom venue, decorations up but torn or falling. Chai holds her arms up as if she’s ballroom dancing with a partner and waltzes around the space on her own.

_It’s okay, it’s okay_

_I’ll convince myself it’s overrated anyway_

_It’s okay, it’s alright_

_The jealousy in my bones won’t rattle tonight_

With a final twirl, we transport...

**INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY**

In real life once again, Chai sits on a stool on the stage, strumming a guitar as she sings. This is her performance for the week, the class and Harper watching from the audience. Instead of the expressionless way she’s been performing thus far, Chai allows her feelings to come through for the final climax of the song.

_‘Cause I wanna be somebody to someone_

_But it all is starting to blur like a dream_

After strumming the final chord, Chai stands up and rests her guitar against a leg of the stool. The audience claps for her before Harper prompts her to explain the meaning behind the song.

> **Chai:** I know that my comfort zone is being vulnerable and honest with people, so I chose a song that I connect to emotionally. I’ve always felt invisible, like nobody would even notice if I was gone. With my parents, but especially at school. I always wanted... a way to have some control. Any power over my environment, but I couldn’t do it as myself when I was mostly ignored. So, I...

She makes eye contact with Lucas, who raises his eyebrows as if to challenge her. Looking away, she sees Isadora watching her with brows furrowed in contemplation. Chai takes a breath, and finally tells the truth.

> **Chai:** I created and ran the Triple A Confessions page.

We see the stunned reactions of the class as Chai goes on to apologize for her actions and the role she played in the drama from the year before. In particular, we focus on Isadora (who’s shocked but impressed that she’s admitting it), Riley, and Farkle. With one final apology, Chai bows out, allowing Harper to take over.

> **Harper:** Well. That was certainly something. Thank you for being brave enough to share that with us, Chai.

Chai flashes a nervous smile. Looking at her classmates, she can’t gauge how they feel about her confession.

* * *

**_Break 2._ **

* * *

**INT. AAA - JACK’S OFFICE - DAY**

Lucas is back in the chair opposite Jack, able to push past all the awkwardness of the week with sheer indignation. He wants to know if now that Chai has admitted her role in the Confessions page, she’ll suffer the consequences. Does Jack have plans to address it? Can they exile her?

Jack rolls his eyes at his suggestions, then asks him to reign in his emotions and act presidential before he tells him what he’s thinking. Lucas sighs but complies, leaning back in his chair and taking a long, deep breath to signal he’s doing just that. Once quiet settles between them for a few moments, Jack speaks, stating that he doesn’t plan to punish Chai any more than he already has.

> **Lucas:** Seriously? _Nothing_?
> 
> **Jack:** Unfortunately, the statute of limitations has pretty much run out on this one, as far as I see it. And if she needs to be punished, I think the way you all treat her from here on out will be a better determinant of that. You, in particular, shouldn’t be so quick to cast judgment. You’ve escaped a fair amount of disciplinary action yourself involving crimes that hurt your classmates.

Mentioning the vandalism, and how it hurt the techies, is a good enough move to knock Lucas off his high horse. But he’s still uncertain, asking how Jack could possibly make a decision like that. Doesn’t he think justice should be served?

> **Jack:** People might say the same about you, if that information came out now. But the truth is, I don’t think you all are as hungry for vengeance as you were back when it happened. Sometimes it doesn’t feel like it, but all of that was almost two years ago. So much time has passed since then -- so much has changed. Before she confessed, most of you didn’t even remember it, despite how all-consuming it felt at the time.
> 
> **Lucas:** … I guess. Still mad you didn’t tell me you knew.
> 
> **Jack:** It wasn’t your business. And honestly, I didn’t think I needed to. You moved on -- all of you did. Look at you now. You’re a far cry from who you were back when all that happened. There’s no need to revert back to that, to dredge up and hold onto all that anger, just to get retribution for something most of you don’t care about anymore. You should focus on the progress you’re making instead, keep making strides no one thought you could make. That seems more worth our effort and attention.

Lucas still seems displeased, but he knows Jack is right. He’s lost a lot of his fire since he first arrived in his office, and reflecting on how much he’s changed does alter his perspective.

Perhaps the smartest thing to do, in most cases, is to just let it go.

**INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY**

Dweezil is still wandering the halls, getting a better look for himself with no supervision. He’s poking around the corners and glimpsing into classrooms, taking pictures now and then on his phone. He snaps a picture of the rear entrance to the school, and another of the hallway leading back towards the atrium.

He grows intrigued at a door marked personnel only -- the security room, right next to the janitor’s closet. He goes out on a limb and tries the door, but of course, it’s locked. He investigates further, crouching to get a better look at the type of lock.

> **Shawn:** Who are you?

Dweezil straightens up, caught, as SHAWN HUNTER makes his way down the hall towards him. He claims he’s not a student he recognizes -- which he knows he’s not the best teacher at Adams, but it’s not often he’s _that_ face blind -- and either way, he knows he shouldn’t be poking around these offices.

With that limited intel, Dweezil is able to rebuild some of his confidence. Easy Haverford suaveness back intact, he innocently claims he’s here helping Farkle Minkus with a project. They needed a drummer -- he even holds up his drumsticks to prove it. He was just heading back to the rehearsal studio they were working in to see if he’s free to go and just… got lost.

Shawn doesn’t look like he totally buys it, but it’s a plausible story. He nods for Dweezil to get going and that he better not catch him wandering the halls without an escort from Adams again. Dweezil nods amicably, thanking him and buzzing off. Shawn watches him go, crossing his arms.

> **Shawn:** That’s right. I could be Jack. Authority, baby.

**INT. CHUBBIES - DAY**

Charlie enters the diner, scanning it until he finds a familiar face. Farkle is set up at a table alone, headphones on and focused on his laptop. He seems to be exactly who Charlie was hoping to see, making his way over to him and asking to join him. Farkle greets him agreeably, inviting him to sit as he takes off his headphones and finishes up tweaking on his computer.

> **Charlie:** What are you working on?
> 
> **Farkle:** Audio-visual presentation for class. Did you know that video editing software has so many features? You can even reduce camera shaking and misalignment in post -- which is good, because Lucas is the worst camera operator since the invention of cinema.
> 
> **Charlie:** Lucas is doing it? That’s a weird choice. Thought you would’ve asked Isadora. For a lot of reasons.
> 
> **Farkle:** Wouldn’t I have loved to. But unfortunately, that’s the assignment. Going out of our comfort zones -- and I’m going way, way out. Anyway, what can I do for you, Chuck?

Ironically, comfort zone pushing is kind of exactly what Charlie needs to talk about. He’s hoping to get some advice, but admits it requires some context before he can fully get into what’s plaguing him. He goes through another long-winded build up, before coming out to Farkle and telling him that he’s gay.

> **Farkle, offhandedly:** Oh, I know.

Farkle quickly makes another tweak on his video, clearly unmoved by this revelation. Charlie stares at him, processing his reaction, then frowns.

> **Charlie:** You _know_?

Farkle returns his frown, not sure why he’s so put off by his comment… until he remembers the disconnect. He waves his hands, shutting his laptop and giving him his full attention.

> **Farkle:** Sorry, sorry. I realize that probably sounded dismissive. _[ matter-of-factly ]_ Last year, I happened to overhear a conversation between you and Zay that basically made that little detail abundantly clear.
> 
> **Charlie:** Shoot. _[ slouching in his seat ]_ Well, that’s just great.
> 
> **Farkle:** Don’t be too hard on yourself. I was basically invisible at that point -- there’s nothing you could have done to thwart my powers. _[ with a shrug ]_ But I wouldn’t freak out. I don’t think anyone else knows except Riley. Well, and Dylan and Asher, but that’s only because they know everything about stuff like that. You know they say Dylan is psychic? Like he’s got a sixth sense.
> 
> **Charlie:** That is… absolutely terrifying.

Dylan’s supernatural abilities aside, Farkle redirects back to whatever Charlie wanted to talk about. He explains that he wanted to ask Farkle about it, because he’s really the only religious friend he has that he could also talk about this with.

> **Farkle:** That’s really sad for you. The bar is so low.
> 
> **Charlie:** I mean, I talked to my sister about it, but she’s pretty… to say she’s disillusioned would be an understatement. So she claims it doesn’t matter, like it’s that easy, but it doesn’t feel that way to me. I’m not out here ready to denounce, you know? It still means something to me, I still believe. But I don’t want to keep hiding either. So I’m struggling to… I don’t know, find the balance.
> 
> **Farkle:** How so?
> 
> **Charlie:** I guess I just feel like… God -- whatever God -- is supposed to be at the core of everything. He loves us, and he’s supposed to be something we can trust. Believe in. And I want to think that’s true, but… I mean, if I’m thinking about telling you guys, when I can’t even tell him, isn’t that a problem? Isn’t that messed up on its own? If I can’t even be honest with him, I don’t know why I think I have the right to share it with anyone else. It feels wrong.

Farkle contemplates this, quiet for a long moment. He prefaces with the fact that the two of them have different relationships with religion, and God, and that’s important to keep in mind. But while he doesn’t share these kind of anxieties that Charlie is grappling with, he thinks he understands what he means.

> **Farkle:** But here’s what I think. Look at this way. If what we believe about God is true, all of the scripture and teachings, and he’s some all-knowing, all-seeing higher being… then he must already know. It’s not like you’re really keeping a secret from him if he created you and made you the way you are and knows everything about you.
> 
> **Charlie:** … I guess. I hadn’t thought about it like that.
> 
> **Farkle:** So it’s more like he’s waiting for you to come to him, to share it on your own terms, than you actively hiding it from him. And we believe he’s patient, right? If that’s true, regardless of what else in the teachings is true or false, then I think he’s fine waiting for you to be ready to speak your truth. And I doubt he’s going to smite you for telling people in the real world in the meantime. _[ a beat ]_ And to be honest, God’s got plenty of problems to focus on a lot bigger than you. Not that you don’t matter, that we all aren’t special and loved in his embrace or whatever, but I doubt he’s all that concerned about gay Charlie Gardner of the Upper East Side.

Charlie absorbs this, a bit calmer than before. He thanks Farkle, appreciative, then asks him how his project is going. Farkle claims it’s actually just about done, if he wants to take a look at it. Charlie nods, scooting his chair around as Farkle opens his laptop and hits play.

> **Charlie:** _[ raising his eyebrows ]_ Oh. Wow. Not what I was expecting.
> 
> **Farkle:** Precisely, Chuck. Precisely.

**INT. HOSPITAL - WAITING ROOM - DAY**

Zay is gearing up for his surgery, both Donna and OMAR BABINEAUX there to make sure everything goes smoothly. Donna is discussing something with the nurse, given her own background in medicine.

Riley and Nigel are there for moral support, to see him off. Though he won’t admit it, it’s clear Zay is scared -- both of the procedure, and the possibilities of how things could go wrong now and in the future -- so Riley does her best to assure him that everything is going to be fine. Nigel echoes the sentiment.

> **Nigel:** No matter what happens, we’ve got your back.

Zay nods, trying to believe it. Both of them lean down to give him a hug… then Yindra comes through the doors, spotting them from across the room. Zay is surprised to see her, staring as she sheepishly saunters her way over to join them. Silence hangs over them for a moment, then she huffs, stuffing her hands in her pockets.

> **Yindra:** You and I are not peachy keen. Don’t get it twisted. _[ a beat ]_ But I wasn’t going to miss this. I’m here for you… bitch.

This is more encouraging than it sounds. It feels closer to their usual rapport, after the icy treatment for the last couple of weeks. Zay manages a smile, thanking her for being there. Then the nurse lets them know it’s time for the procedure, wheeling Zay back through the doors. Riley, Yindra, and Nigel wave him goodbye, wishing him luck and last-minute reassurances.

**INT. GARDNER HOME - LIVING ROOM - NIGHT**

Charlie walks downstairs into the living room, where AMBROSE GARDNER sits alone. From upstairs, we can hear the light chatter of his sisters. Ambrose has glasses on and is reading the news on a tablet, but looks up and gives Charlie a smile when he comes to join him. 

> **Charlie:** Can I ask for your advice on something?
> 
> **Ambrose:** Of course. Usual disclaimer that I don’t have all the answers, but…
> 
> **Charlie:** _[ laughing ]_ Yeah, yeah, of course. It’s fine. I just, um...

Ambrose moves his glasses to rest on top of his head, setting aside his tablet to focus entirely on his son. Charlie searches for how to ask what he wants to ask without giving everything away.

> **Charlie:** I went to do confessions the other day, but I couldn’t, well... confess. I couldn’t tell God something really important. Is that bad? Like, I know it’s bad, but like… unforgivably bad?
> 
> **Ambrose:** Very little is unforgivably bad in God’s eyes. That’s part of the whole thing. Was it something specific you were trying to confess? _[ off Charlie’s nod ]_ That’s always tricky. I often find that just listing off general sins is easier than getting into one specific thing. If you don’t mind me asking, what was it?
> 
> **Charlie, quickly:** I can’t tell you. _[ a beat ]_ It’s not like I don’t want to, because I do, but I’m... I’m not ready yet. But don’t, um, worry or anything. It’s just… yeah.

It’s the closest Charlie has ever come to discussing the secret with his father, and it might kill him. He’s trying to stay calm, but his breathing is shallow if you look hard enough, and he sits on his hands to keep them from noticeably shaking. Ambrose notices anyway, but doesn’t comment, choosing to stay on the subject where Charlie seems comfortable.

> **Ambrose:** Sounds like something that’s been bothering you for a while. _[ a beat ]_ The secrets you hold the most tightly are always the hardest to tell. If it’s something that only you know, as I suspect it is, then I can understand why you’re having a hard time telling God.
> 
> **Charlie:** Really? Why?
> 
> **Ambrose:** If nobody knows, then it’s almost as if it isn’t true. It didn’t really happen, or isn’t actually real. Maybe a good first step would be to tell people, discuss it with them.
> 
> **Charlie, hopeful:** … really?
> 
> **Ambrose:** I think so. If you allow it to become a part of your life, instead of hiding it away, it becomes easier to confront. _[ a beat ]_ Does that make sense with whatever it is? I’m stabbing in the dark here.
> 
> **Charlie:** No, no, it does. Thank you. Thanks. And… I’m sorry that I’m not ready to tell you either yet. 
> 
> **Ambrose:** Don’t worry about it. I’m your dad, I’m not supposed to know everything about my teenage son’s life. The things I kept from my dad... _[ shakes his head ]_ But you know that God already knows, right? Whatever it is you’re afraid to tell him, he knows, and he still loves and accepts you wholly. Nothing you ever do could ever stop him -- or me -- from loving you. You know that.
> 
> **Charlie, quietly:** I know.

Ambrose gives Charlie a comforting smile before returning to his news app, mentioning something he found interesting. Charlie doesn’t really take it in, still processing his father’s advice. Something new settles within him, a sense of assurance... and something like permission.

**INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY**

On the last day of performances for the week, Farkle kicks us off. He stands on stage and explains his concept while the projector screen slowly lowers behind him.

> **Farkle:** Me and my team for the week pushed ourselves in many ways this week. Working together, for one. Trying a different medium of performance. Orlando played bass rather than guitar, and Dave was allowed the chance to shine by taking lead on guitar, instead of being relegated to the background. And this is the debut work of my director and cinematographer, Lucas James Friar. We even invited a drummer from Haverford to be included, another unexpected twist.
> 
> **Maya:** Disturbed.
> 
> **Farkle:** And of course, the genre chosen is far from my usual repertoire. It’s not a perfect product, but all in all, the challenge was fun. I’m proud of what we put together. Which, I suppose, was the whole point. So, without further ado…

He signals for Jeff to roll it in the booth, hopping off the edge of the stage as the lights go down.

On the screen, we get the film leader countdown, then the beep that cues the start of the film. As it fades up from black, we’re in a small room with nothing but Farkle, the band, and plain white walls -- almost like being trapped in a box.

And the boys look _nothing_ like their usual selves. They look more like Lucas’s darkest fashion days, in dark clothes and combat boots. All of their hair is combed down flat, in classic punk rock, emo style of the early 2000s.

An eerie ringing preludes the performance as we ease into the screen, getting sucked into the space…

**INT. FARKLE’S WHITE ROOM - MUSIC VIDEO - DAY**

Then Dave and the band slam the first chord, launching us into the punk rock anthem.

* * *

**Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Numb” as performed by Linkin Park || Performed by Farkle Minkus (feat. Dave Williams, Dylan Orlando, & Dweezil Howard)**

It’s rough, just like Farkle warned it would be, but it honestly works for the aesthetic. The whole thing carries a ‘90s-2000s grainy music video vibe, meaning that Lucas’s lack of experience with staging and shots doesn’t really impact the experience. The music is strong, each of the band members clearly familiar with their instrument even if it’s not how they’d usually play it. It’s fun to see them do back-up vocals, too, doing the classic move of leaning way too close to their microphones ( _“Caught in the undertow, just caught in the undertow”_ ).

And although it’s _definitely_ not his genre, Farkle actually pulls off punk band frontman with decent enough flair. He can certainly ham up the angst, but what really works is the fact that he is singing from something real. Though it’s hidden under the gloss and spectacle, the song Farkle chose is quite intentional, speaking to the struggle he’s running from in regards to his father and his mental health. When he leans into some of the harder notes, he lacks the signature grit of a seasoned punk rocker, but there’s plenty of raw emotion to make up for it.

Intercut with the performing, which makes up a bulk of the video, Farkle has included a sort of art pop homage. During these cuts he stands in front of the white wall, looking directly at the camera, and slowly deconstructs part of his facade. It starts with him bright and smiling, the same way he used to practice his showman’s grin in the mirror back in the pilot… then slowly, pieces of that fall away as he pulls and nitpicks at them.

He wipes at his face with a make-up remover wipe, smears stage make-up concealer on his hands, and then starts to cover his face… until, thanks to the special effects aid of Yogi in post, his identity is gone entirely. It’s just a blank slate looking back at us, staring with no eyes.

 _Fin_.

* * *

**INT. AAA - TECHNICIAN’S BOOTH - DAY**

Riley comes by the booth during lunch, intending to eat with Lucas. She congratulates him on the music video, declaring it a successful debut for a budding director. Isadora should be worried.

> **Lucas:** Okay, we’re already in trouble for nefarious behavior. I don’t think you wanna get penalized for lying, too.

She laughs, allowing the joke, then changes the subject. She gently questions how he’s feeling about the whole _AAAC_ thing -- she knows it was a long time ago, and it seems like most people aren’t too moved by the reveal, but she also knows how much it affected him. It kind of screwed up their entire year, in a lot of ways, so she would understand if he’s upset.

To her surprise, though, Lucas claims he’s fine. He admits he was upset at first, but thinking about it and talking to Jack made him recognize that it’s not that big a deal. It was, at the time, but not anymore. And he’s not that person anymore, who was so angry and defensive and let all of those things break him down. Sure, he’s got a lot of work left to do… but the past is in the past. He figures he should let it stay there and focus on the things that matter now.

His reaction demonstrates a lot of maturity, at least compared to the boy last year who destroyed everything in his path because he didn’t know how to cope. It’s a testament to how much he’s grown, even if he still has to take some time and consideration to get there. Riley seems impressed… and soft with fondness. It’s clear, in the way she looks at him, how much she admires him.

How much she loves him.

* * *

**INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY**

**Song Cue ♫ ♪ “prfct” as performed by Sabrina Carpenter || Performed by Riley Matthews (feat. Maya Hart, Darby Winters, & Haley Fisher)**

Darby, Maya, and HALEY FISHER open the number as a trio of back-up singers -- another unexpected step out of Maya’s comfort zone. But she seems content to do it, shrouded in shadow with the moody lighting, leaving the spotlight to Riley.

And Riley is basking in the spotlight this time around. She is going for a certain amount of diva excellence, of an R&B crooner variety, nothing but her, a slinky gown, and a microphone to amplify her vocals. And she delivers, her soprano impressively smooth with the sultry lyrics. It’s confident, unlike anything she’s ever done, and it’s a relatively direct take on what she’s going through. The lyrics speak to where she stands with Lucas, on the edge of something more meaningful, but holding back because of fear of what happens if it gets messed up.

_It’s not perfect, but maybe that’s what we need_

Her classmates are impressed, too. Although Missy is bored, looking at her fingernails, the rest of the A class is marveling at Riley’s range, her own brand of diva on display for the first time. Zay isn’t present, but Nigel records it to show him later while Yindra nods along to the groove next to him. Dylan and Asher are both entranced and amused, casting sideways glances at Lucas to try and gauge his reaction.

To his credit, though, Lucas has always been an expert at projecting a neutral demeanor. He doesn’t give anything away, whether he picks up on the message or not, but the fact that he can’t take his eyes off Riley for even a moment speaks for him.

All in all, a tantalizing step out of the comfort zone. Maya’s coaching and Riley’s vision paid off, creating an unforgettable performance that in some ways feels like a breakout. Meet the new, improved, and bold Riley Matthews.

* * *

**INT. AAA - LIBRARY - DAY**

In between labs, Farkle is camped out in the library reading when Chai manages to find him. She approaches and asks if he has a minute to chat, uncharacteristically timid given the circumstances. But Farkle doesn’t seem bothered, nodding and gesturing for her to take the chair opposite him.

> **Chai:** Great job on the assignment. The video turned out awesome. What program did you use... After Effects? AVID?
> 
> **Farkle:** As much as I’d love to discuss the specifics of software, I get the sense that’s not what you came here to say to me. So why don’t we just cut right to it?

Blunt Farkle for the win. Chai recovers from that, nodding, but when she opens her mouth to speak she finds it’s harder to talk. Vulnerability is still hard, especially when it’s coupled with guilt. Looking at Farkle, it’s like the words have left her entirely. She chokes up, struggling through it anyway.

> **Chai:** I… I am so sorry about what I did to you. I mean, everybody, but… what happened with you… I had no idea. And I never meant for… _[ shaking her head ]_ I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.

Farkle lets the apology hang between them for a moment, Chai frantically swiping at her eyes. Then he shrugs.

> **Farkle:** I’m not saying you shouldn’t be apologizing -- you’ve done plenty worth repenting for -- but I dug my own grave. Pun intended. You posted the video, yeah, which I wish you hadn’t done, but I said it. I sent it. Those are things I’ve got to live with, just like you’ve got to live with creating it.
> 
> **Chai:** Yeah… yeah.
> 
> **Farkle:** And I don’t know how much of that contributed to my downward spiral… but that wasn’t your fault. Someone choosing to off themselves is rarely, if ever, one person’s fault, and I can tell you that wasn’t the case with me. What I’ve got going on… that’s my thing. Something I would’ve had to confront eventually. If anything, you just accelerated it, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing.

Chai nods, exhaling in relief. She manages a smile, grateful.

> **Farkle:** I’m just as guilty as you, so I’m not going to be burning you at the stake. That would be pretty hypocritical of me. But any amends or relationships you build from here, you’re going to have to work against those choices and make it clear you’re changing for the better. Take it from me. But at the end of the day, it’s all you can do. _[ going back to his book ]_ In any case, I forgive you. I know how important that is.

For how blasé his forgiveness is, it has an evident impact on Chai. She thanks Farkle, genuinely, then gives him space again.

**INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY**

As students begin to arrive for their final performance lab of the week, Isadora approaches Harper on the stage. 

> **Isadora:** I’m ready.

It takes Harper a moment to catch up, but when she does her mouth opens in surprise.

> **Harper:** You’re going to perform?

Isadora nods. Her jaw is set and her fists clenched at her sides. She doesn’t look particularly excited to perform, but she’s definitely determined.

Once the rest of the class have arrived and settled into their seats, Harper announces the final performance of the week: Isadora De La Cruz. She leaves Isadora on the stage alone as a smattering of applause comes from the audience.

> **Farkle:** Did you know she was going to do this?
> 
> **Maya:** No, this is a pleasant surprise. Another one of my clients helped by my services!
> 
> **Farkle:** Sure...

* * *

**Song Cue ♫ ♪ “How Could You Leave Us (Me)” as performed by NF || Performed by Isadora De La Cruz**

_[ Lyrics specific to characters -- follow along[here](https://docs.google.com/document/d/1-YMRAxbKj0cnPA0ny_u7YZ5bO3gvZBYW4gRaUYXQKzM/edit?usp=sharing)! ]_

Standing alone on the otherwise empty stage, Isadora looks even smaller than usual. The focus is on her for the entirety of the performance; we almost forget that there’s an audience there at all. It’s such a personal moment that we’re being allowed to witness. She begins quiet and unsure, posture awkward as she looks around her, not sure where to land her gaze.

She gains some more confidence as the beat picks up, launching into a passionate rap -- definitely not her usual genre, but something she pulls off effectively. She finally lets out all of her pain and anger, spitting the words out of her and onto the stage.

_I think of you when I get on stage and feel the spotlight hit, yeah_

_Welcome to the bottom of hell_

_They say pain is a prison, let me out of my cell_

When the chorus comes and Isadora sings, her voice cracks. She’s on the verge of tears, but manages to hold herself together. As she pushes into the next rap verse, she begins to move around the stage, anger coming out not just in her words, but her movements, too.

_You should be there when I graduate_

_Tell me you love me and congratulations_

_Instead you’re leaving me at the window waiting_

A couple of sobs come through in the next chorus, Isadora stilling while she sings. She remains in place for the following verse, her eyes glazed over with tears as she remembers.

_Our last conversation. You called me up to chat about life_

_Talking ‘bout a show and I sang one of my songs for you_

_You started crying, telling me, “I’m so proud of you.”_

_Couple days later, guess you were singing a different tune_

She paces again, sadness overtaken by anger as the tears spill down her cheeks. The final chorus is when Isadora truly begins to break down, bending over as if in physical pain as she cries. She falls to her knees as the beat fades, stammering through the last few words.

_Sometimes I think about like_

_Sometimes I think about things like, you know, if I get married and have a family and like_

_You won’t be there, you know? You won’t be there for any of that_

_I’ll never get to see you again_

She looks upwards and points to emphasize her accusations, yelling at Valerie directly. She wraps her arms around herself, letting out another sob and squeezing her eyes shut.

_I wish you were here..._

* * *

As Isadora continues to cry on stage, we see the stunned reactions of her classmates. More than a few tears are shed, moved by the display of raw emotion. _Damn_ …

**INT. AAA - GIRLS’ DRESSING ROOM - DAY**

Later, Chai finds Isadora sitting alone in the dressing room. She’s calm, no longer crying, and has a scrunched up tissue in her hand. Chai clears her throat, bringing Isadora’s attention to her.

> **Chai:** I didn’t get the chance to say it earlier, but that was one hell of a performance. It was so, so powerful. You’re incredible for being able to do that, truly.
> 
> **Isadora:** Thanks. Well done for yours too, by the way. I’m glad you told everyone the truth. Must’ve been difficult.
> 
> **Chai:** It was, but... I think it was worth it. A weight’s been lifted off me, you know?
> 
> **Isadora:** Yeah. I get that.
> 
> **Chai:** _[ after a beat ]_ I cannot even begin to imagine the pain you’re in, but I want you to know that I’m here for you if you ever need it. I won’t blame you if you don’t take me up on it, given my track record, but I mean it. Genuinely.

Isadora gives a quiet thank you, never really sure how to respond to those offers. Chai leaves her alone then, departing with a final sympathetic smile.

**INT. MINKUS HOME - STUART’S OFFICE - NIGHT**

Farkle pokes his head into the office, catching STUART MINKUS in a moment between late digital meetings. He informs him that he’s going to show the family his music video project tomorrow afternoon, which Stuart confirms he’s very excited to see. He asks how the experience was overall, pushing his genres or what have you, and Farkle contemplates.

> **Farkle:** Suffice to say, I was not built to punk rock. _[ off his laughter ]_ But it was cool. Definitely learned a lot.
> 
> **Stuart:** That’s the best you can ask for. Happy it went well. Were you able to have that discussion with your therapist?
> 
> **Farkle:** Yep. Same old, same old, but we’re working on it. Nothing to worry about.
> 
> **Stuart:** Well, that’s great then. You know you can talk to me about anything, though.
> 
> **Farkle:** For sure.

Farkle steps back from the doorway, almost letting it go. Pushing down his ill feelings with his dad like he always does, choosing to focus on the positive instead. Then he pauses, thinking about everything he learned this week. Emoting about it through song, pushing his boundaries, watching people like Zay and Isadora grapple with things much more daunting than this. If they can confront those kinds of traumas, then Farkle can have this uncomfortable conversation.

> **Farkle:** Actually, dad? Do you maybe have a few minutes to talk?
> 
> **Stuart:** Now? Oh, yes, of course. My next meeting isn’t for a half-hour -- and I can push it if necessary. Come on in.

Farkle smiles, taking a deep breath and nodding. He steps inside, shutting the door behind him.

**INT. ERIC’S APARTMENT - ISADORA’S ROOM - NIGHT**

Isadora is once again by the boxes of Valerie’s belongings, more things on the floor around her than she got out during her earlier attempt. Tears fall consistently, but she’s allowing them to.

From the nearest box Isadora pulls out the baby blanket that we saw back in Valerie’s L.A. mansion. She hugs it to her, feeling the soft texture against her cheek. A half-sob half-laugh comes out before she twists and puts the blanket on her bed. The next thing she takes out is a worn out copy of _Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone_. Opening it, she sees her own handwriting scrawled inside. _Property of Isadora De La Cruz (age 9)._

There’s a knock on the door, and Eric peeks in with a box of tissues in his hands. He passes a tissue to Isadora as he steps into the room, which she uses to blow her nose.

> **Isadora:** This was my favorite book. I took it with me when I went to live with her in L.A. for a little while. Mom asked me why I only reread the one book, and I had to tell her that I stole it and didn’t have the opportunity to steal the rest of the series. She got in touch with J.K. Rowling and asked her to send me the full series. _[ laughs ]_ It never even crossed her mind to go out and buy them -- her first thought was to ask the author.

Eric sits on her bed with a fond smile.

> **Eric:** Did you get the books?
> 
> **Isadora:** _[ nods ]_ All signed, and with a note in Sorcerer’s Stone telling me that I was brave like Harry because I spent so long in foster care. That’s why she had this copy, because I took the full set back with me. I had no idea she kept it.

Reaching forward, Eric puts a hand on Isadora’s shoulder and squeezes. She looks over her shoulder with a smile before putting the book down and getting something else out of the box.

**INT. CHUBBIES - NIGHT**

A bunch of the usual crew is assembled at Chubbies, another gathering that was an invention of Riley’s. They’re there to rally around Zay, who is parked at a table in his wheelchair with a freshly operated on and casted leg propped up. Currently, he’s watching Farkle’s music video on his laptop, the creator himself avidly explaining all of his creative choices. Zay seems simultaneously impressed and bewildered.

> **Farkle:** I mean, I’m not saying I could make a _career_ out of it, but you have to admit my grunge vocal is pretty killer.
> 
> **Zay:** Yeah, there’s no one like you, Farkle…

Lucas comes out from behind the counter, Riley enthusiastically coming over to greet him. She gives him a kiss, thanking him for helping her secure part of the diner for Zay’s well-wishing party. Lucas claims it was no big deal.

> **Lucas:** You know, presidential privilege and all that.
> 
> **Riley:** Oh?
> 
> **Lucas:** Yeah, and you only benefit as Partner-In-Chief.
> 
> **Riley:** _[ tilting her head and raising her eyebrows ]_ Well, I could get used to that…

They exchange another quick kiss. Riley takes his hands.

> **Riley:** So... what did you think of my performance?
> 
> **Lucas:** Oh. Oh, it was, um… _[ swallowing and looking at the floor ]_ It was... good...

From the way he says it, it’s clear it was a lot more than just “good.” Riley smiles, pleased and just the slightest bit mischievous.

The moment is interrupted, though, by another unexpected visitor. Charlie walks through the door, surprising Riley. She goes to meet him at the entrance, glancing over her shoulder towards Zay to see if he’s noticed.

> **Riley:** Charlie. I didn’t -- I didn’t know you were coming.
> 
> **Charlie:** Yeah, Farkle told me about it. I hope that’s okay.
> 
> **Riley:** Yeah -- I mean, yeah, of course. I… it’s not that I didn’t want to tell you. I wasn’t keeping it from you, I just… I just thought that --
> 
> **Charlie:** Riley. It’s okay. _[ softly ]_ I know you’re trying your best.

If that ain’t the truth. It’s nice to have someone acknowledge how much she’s trying to keep the peace without losing anybody. Riley nods, stepping back to let him further into the space.

And this time, he doesn’t beat around the bush. He slowly makes his way back towards Zay, Farkle noticing and subtly getting up to give them privacy. Zay watches him approach but doesn’t signal for him to back off, the time it takes for Charlie to reach his table feeling eternal.

Finally, he’s standing in front of him. The two of them just look at each other for a long moment, like they’re frozen, when Charlie manages to break the ice.

> **Charlie:** How… how is it? How did it go?
> 
> **Zay, guarded:** Predictably, not great. But the surgery went well. If I keep off it, do the physical therapy, and let it heal, then it should heal by audition season. Best case scenario.
> 
> **Charlie:** Good. That’s good. I’m glad.

Silence grips them again, even though there’s clearly so much left to say. But is it the right time? The right place? Either way, Charlie stammers out one more thing, needing to say it.

> **Charlie:** I meant what I said. If there’s… _anything_. Anything I can do. Just tell me.

He’s so sincere, so earnest… all things Zay liked most about him. Things he misses. But it’s not as simple as just snapping back to before, even if part of them wants that. So Zay simply nods, accepting the support and allowing some of the ice to thaw.

For now, that’s all they can ask of each other.

Meanwhile, Asher and Dylan reconvene with Lucas, discussing how everything unfolded with Chai and the _AAAC_. It’s good that everything is out in the open now, but Asher admits he’s disappointed Chai isn’t going to get more comeuppance after everything that happened. Dylan points out the aftermath wasn’t technically her fault, and Lucas repeats Jack’s words of wisdom, but Asher doesn’t seem convinced.

> **Dylan:** Besides, the worst scenario was averted. At least she’s not President. Or Vice President, for that matter.
> 
> **Asher:** Not that our current VP is much better… in fact, she might be worse…
> 
> **Lucas:** I’ve already explained why I chose her. I’m not saying it again.
> 
> **Asher:** Meh.

Asher makes a face, taking a moody sip of his drink. Either way, Lucas states if anything, they learned they should all mind their own business. Dylan contributes a forlorn take of his own, reflecting on his foray into the dark side and detective skills.

> **Dylan:** My methods were sound, but the dark side didn’t do me any favors in deductive reasoning. I tried, but just couldn’t hack it. Though I stand by my theory. The truth is out there -- it’ll emerge eventually.
> 
> **Lucas:** Yeah, in case it wasn’t obvious, you’re fired as FBI.
> 
> **Dylan:** That’s fair. I think I’m retiring shady Dylan. _[ with a sigh ]_ Guess it’s just back to being the irreplaceable ambassador of public relational fun and enthusiasm, comma right hand advisor, comma prime minister of the techies and secretary of kissing, mainly to the secretary.
> 
> **Asher:** You’ll always be federal babe of investigation to me.

Dylan beams lightly, Asher patting his cheek. Riley taps silverware on her glass and gathers everyone around the tables where Zay is stationed, bringing the group together. Once they’re all there, we can actually see who is present -- those we’ve already seen, Maya, Isadora, and Nigel.

> **Riley:** So, I know we’re all here for an important reason, which is to be there for Zay. A gathering of friends and love which I hope he is enjoying…?
> 
> **Zay, placating:** Yes, Riley. Thank you, Riley.
> 
> **Riley:** Is there anything you wanna say?
> 
> **Zay:** Surgery went well. No, they won’t have to amputate, to whoever was spreading that concern around.
> 
> **Dylan:** Oh, thank God.
> 
> **Riley:** That’s definitely good news. _[ a beat ]_ In all honesty, though, I had another reason for getting everyone together tonight. With everything going on, from friends in peril to the aftermath of stressful elections and now some crazy revelations of the past, I just… really wanted to come together and be with each other for a second. In a moment where it’s not crazy, where we can just breathe it in and be. You all are my favorite people. We’re family, and we’re not going to be here, exactly like this, for much longer. Who knows where we’re going to go, the miles we’ll travel, the places we’ll end up.

Isadora glances to Maya and Farkle. Nigel pats Zay’s shoulder bracingly. Dylan props his head on Asher’s shoulder.

> **Riley:** So just for a moment, I wanted to take the time to cherish the way we are right now. In this time, in this place, together. And I’m really grateful that when I put out the call, you all showed up. I love you guys, and I’m glad we all could be here together when one of us needed it. _[ looking to Charlie ]_ All of us.

The sentiment settles over them, warm and secure in spite of all the chaos. Zay smiles, more genuine this time.

> **Zay:** Thanks, Riley.

Everyone else chimes in agreement, thanking and returning the affection towards her. She blushes, waving them off before settling back down into her seat next to Lucas. After a beat, Charlie clears his throat, tentatively speaking up.

> **Charlie:** There’s actually something I wanted to say to you all, too.

Oh. Unexpected! Partially because it’s Charlie speaking up at all, but also because a handful of them aren’t sure what he would have to say. Riley watches him knowingly, though, uncertain whether he’s going to do what she thinks, but optimistic. Maya glances towards Zay to gauge his reaction, which is hard to read.

Charlie apologizes for intruding or stealing the focus, and promises that he’ll make it quick. But it’s rare to get all of them in the same place like this, these days, and it feels like a moment he can’t pass up. He echoes Riley’s sentiments about family, how important all of them are -- in general and to him.

> **Charlie:** I, uh, know I haven’t exactly been making it seem that way. Since I kind of disappeared. And I’m sorry I did that, I… I’ve been a little lost. Basically, I’ve been trying to find a new balance, and it’s harder than it sounds. _[ a beat ]_ I’ve been trying to find balance with a lot of things, actually. And I’m still figuring it out, so even saying it feels kind of… I don’t know, but I also don’t think it’s going to change, even if sometimes in worse moments I want it to. But I think part of fixing that feeling is saying it, accepting it, sharing it with people who matter to me.

He takes a deep breath, torn for just an instant on his last moment to back away and hide again. It’s like the diner is holding its breath.

> **Charlie:** _[ with an exhale ]_ I’m gay.

More than half the people assembled already knew this fact, to Charlie’s knowledge or not, but it still lands. Dylan breaks into a beam, looking to Asher happily. Nigel seems surprised but also not, but not at all opposed to the information. Zay stares at Charlie, obviously stunned he’s telling them -- that he’s telling anybody.

> **Charlie:** And maybe that’s not really a big deal… but it is to me. Right now. And I wanted to share it with you all, because like Riley said, we’re family. You’re my friends, and I feel like you should know. Especially considering how patient you’ve been with me. You deserve the authentic me… even the parts I haven’t totally figured out.

Well… that happened. And the world didn’t implode. God didn’t smite him, just like Farkle figured. Riley smiles softly, obviously proud.

> **Riley:** Love you, Charlie.

This sentiment is echoed, too, Charlie sighing and breaking into a grin. More relaxed, he reclines back into his seat. Nigel picks up his glass and raises it, prompting a cheers.

> **Nigel:** To Zay, family, and stepping out of our comfort and into the zone.

This, everyone can get behind. Hear, hear! They clink their glasses against one another.

**INT. CHUBBIES - LATER - NIGHT**

The gathering has unfolded comfortably, everyone breaking into smaller groups. Riley is chatting with Zay, who is assuring her that he appreciated the party. Nigel catches up with Charlie. Isadora comes to join Farkle and Maya in the usual booth, carrying a bag and dropping into the booth seat opposite them.

> **Farkle:** You look happy.
> 
> **Isadora, smiling:** I am. Well, not _happy_. My mom’s dead. But I feel a lot better than before, now that I’m actually like... allowing myself to process emotions. You should try it sometime.
> 
> **Maya:** We already do, Izzy. That was just a you problem.
> 
> **Isadora:** Oh. Well, anyway, some boxes of my mom’s belongings arrived earlier in the week, and I’ve been going through them. I have something for each of you.

Excitement lights up in Maya’s eyes while Farkle raises an eyebrow in interest.

> **Farkle:** I’m not sure how I feel about being gifted something belonging to a dead person, to be honest --
> 
> **Maya:** Oh, shut up. You were almost a dead person like six months ago. _[ moving on ]_ I can’t believe this. I cannot believe this. You’re the best friend a girl could ask for, Izzy.

Isadora laughs, reminding Maya that she hasn’t even given her the present yet. She opens up her bag, and pulls out a luxurious faux fur coat. Maya’s jaw drops.

> **Isadora:** Farkle, this is for you.
> 
> **Farkle:** Uh...

Maya squeaks, unable to form words at the prospect of Farkle getting something so incredible. Isadora cracks up, assuring Maya that the coat is hers and hers alone. Maya embraces it once she hands it over, burying her face in the soft not-fur and thanking Isadora repeatedly.

> **Maya:** It’s gorgeous. It’s _amazing_. Are you sure you don’t want it?
> 
> **Isadora:** Not really my style. Besides, I think Val would want you to have it. She believed in you, even thought about taking you on as a mentee. The least she could do now with all these broken promises is lend you her diva coat.
> 
> **Maya:** _[ genuinely emotional ]_ I will never take this off. I will uphold her brilliant, inspirational diva name. _[ glancing at them ]_ Don’t look at me, this is between me and the coat.

Farkle laughs, shaking his head. Isadora turns her focus to him.

> **Isadora:** What your therapist -- and you -- said about avoiding things actually really helped, you know.
> 
> **Farkle:** I’m glad. It helped me, too.
> 
> **Isadora:** Good. I didn’t find anything of Val’s that I particularly thought you would like…
> 
> **Farkle:** Well, I think I could’ve pulled off the coat. But it’s okay, I don’t need anything.
> 
> **Isadora:** _But_... I did find this.

She presents him with a photo of two children. One is grinning, holding a trophy and wearing an odd combination of yellow turtleneck, orange jumper decorated with ducks, black skirt and purple tights. Her hair is in two braids and she wears glasses that are too big for her face. Next to her is a boy wearing a sour expression, holding a much smaller trophy. His hair is gelled back and he wears a smart red blazer. Farkle stares at the photo in confusion.

> **Farkle:** Why did your mom have a photo of me in middle school?
> 
> **Isadora:** Check the back.

Farkle flips the photo over. Written on the back in messy handwriting is: _“To Valerie, This is me after winning the New York MathCounts competition. My social worker is making me send this to you. From, Isadora.”_ Farkle gasps at the photo, eyes widening.

> **Farkle:** Oh my God, I _remember_.
> 
> **Isadora, grinning:** Crazy, right?
> 
> **Farkle:** I knew you were familiar in freshman year! You’re the annoying girl who knew every answer!
> 
> **Isadora:** I was indeed. Still am, actually. Small world.
> 
> **Farkle:** Tiny. _[ looking at her ]_ Guess some people are just destined to know each other.

Isn’t it just so pretty to think… Isadora grins wider. Maya leans closer to Farkle to get a look at the picture and cackles.

> **Maya:** How did I end up being friends with such nerds? Look at you! The fashion faux pas is astounding.

Farkle and Isadora laugh. Maya’s expression turns soft as she looks between them.

> **Maya:** I love you bitches. I hope you know that. _[ a beat ]_ And I am so grateful you’re not Lucas or Yogi.

Well, that’s odd. Farkle smiles but also glances to Isadora, making a face. She smiles, taking the chance to echo the sentiment.

> **Isadora:** I love you guys, too. You mean so much to me.
> 
> **Maya:** Ugh, sentimental dorks. Get over here.

Isadora obliges, squeezing into the same side of the booth as Maya and Farkle. Maya throws her arms around the two of them and squeezes them close, Farkle sandwiched between them.

**EXT. CHUBBIES - NIGHT**

Lucas is standing just outside the diner, getting some air. After a moment of solitude, the door jingles open, Charlie stepping out into the night. The two of them exchange a look, which sort of becomes an awkward smile, before Charlie comes to join Lucas against the wall.

> **Charlie:** Getting some air?
> 
> **Lucas, diplomatically:** There are a lot of good things about having a girlfriend like Riley. Her social butterfly charm is not one of those things when you’re… well, me.
> 
> **Charlie:** Yeah, I get that. That’s kind of how I feel at church sometimes. Just… claustrophobic. Stuffy. Like I need to --
> 
> **Lucas:** Catch your breath.

Yeah. Exactly that. They exchange another tight smile, falling into awkward silence. Though it’s not clear if he wants Charlie’s company, Lucas is the one who manages to break it. Their conversation is defined by quick glances and a lot of staring at the sidewalk and the street, but they are talking.

> **Lucas:** It was cool, the thing you said in there.
> 
> **Charlie:** Oh. Yeah?
> 
> **Lucas:** Yeah. Definitely made Riley happy. I can, uh… I can imagine it wasn’t easy.
> 
> **Charlie:** Yeah, no… but feels good to have done it. _[ with a laugh ]_ It’s kind of silly, actually, but… I was actually most worried about you.
> 
> **Lucas:** _[ looking at him in confusion ]_ Me? Why would you care about that?
> 
> **Charlie:** I know, it’s dumb. I don’t know.
> 
> **Lucas:** I mean… my best friends are Dylan and Asher --
> 
> **Charlie:** _[ another laugh ]_ Yeah. Yeah, I know. And I know we like, don’t really know each other or… you know. Enough to warrant that. But I don’t know, I can’t explain half the things my brain does. Sometimes it just… does what it wants. _[ stuffing his hands in his pockets ]_ I guess it’s just like… sorry, it’s dumb.
> 
> **Lucas:** No, no, it’s cool. I think I get it.
> 
> **Charlie:** You do?
> 
> **Lucas:** Yeah. I mean, it’s just… rejection, the idea of… letting people in, it’s...

Lucas lets out a weak laugh, grimacing, then scuffs his heel against the sidewalk. Charlie looks at him, and for the first time it’s like he can see the actual human there rather than the idolized or demonized caricature. Just another teenage boy uncertain and bad at conversing, standing outside to search for air when life suddenly feels like it’s drowning him.

Amazing, what a little authenticity can do.

> **Charlie:** You make Riley really happy, you know. _[ with a smile ]_ She really cares about you.

He’s trying, Charlie. He’s trying to believe it. Lucas clears his throat, nodding at his shoes.

> **Lucas:** I know. Feeling’s mutual.

Quiet settles between them again, less imposing this time. Making it easier to breathe. As the gentle bass line floats in...

**INT. CHUBBIES - LATER - NIGHT**

* * *

**Song Cue ♫ ♪ “peace” as performed by Taylor Swift || Instrumental**

The crowd has cleared out, leaving Riley and Lucas alone to clean up. Taylor Swift plays on the speaker from Riley’s phone, music for while they work. She’s putting their corner of the diner back in order while he’s finishing closing up, both of them convening by the counter when they’ve wrapped up.

> **Lucas:** Thanks for staying to help clean up.
> 
> **Riley:** Funny, I was about to say the same thing to you. And thanks for being there with me. I know social stuff like that isn’t really your thing.
> 
> **Lucas:** It’s all good. It made you happy, so.
> 
> **Riley, touched:** … _you_ make me happy.

Lucas grows bashful, Riley taking the opportunity to broach the subject they started discussing earlier. She asks if he got anything out of her performance that afternoon, if he got what she was trying to say with it.

> **Lucas:** … I discovered I greatly prefer Maya as a back-up singer.

Riley bursts into laughter, allowing him the temporary stall. They exchange fond smiles, then she steps forward and slides her hands along his arms, linking their hands together. She hesitates a second, gathering her thoughts, then meets his eyes.

> **Riley, delicately:** I love you.

Whew. Lucas absorbs that, glancing down at their hands because it’s easier than looking at her sincere gaze.

> **Riley:** And I want a relationship with you. Everything that entails. Emotional... physical…

Lucas clears his throat, earning another endeared smile. He brushes his thumb against her knuckles.

> **Lucas, quietly:** That’s what I want, too.

She smiles brighter, though the moment is still inarguably soft. She treads gently, their voices barely above a murmur.

> **Riley:** But for that to happen, you have to let us. You have to let me in. You know I’m not looking to rush anything, and whatever you want… that’s where I’m at, that’s what I want. But I just want you to know that. That I want more. More of you. In every way.
> 
> **Lucas:** I know. _[ softer ]_ I know. And I…

He trails off, leaving the sentiment unfinished. Because he’s not there yet, but he wants to be. He’s trying. And in the meantime, he’ll give her everything he can give. Everything he has.

Lucas gently touches the chain around her neck, with his initial dangling on the end. Then he shifts his hand up to her face, cupping her cheek, before pulling her into a kiss. Riley returns it eagerly, naturally drawn closer to him… then kisses him again. Heavier, with meaning. Deeper.

More.

**INT. MINKUS HOME - FARKLE’S BEDROOM - NIGHT**

The song takes us through a montage to end the episode. Farkle pins the photo Isadora gave him up on his wall, amid a cluster of other photos he’s accumulated in the last year. He smiles at it, fond, when Stuart pokes his head in and tells him they’re all set. Farkle follows him out…

**INT. MINKUS HOME - NIGHT**

And into the living area, where all of his family at home is assembled to watch his music video. It’s cued up on the screen, JENNIFER MINKUS entertaining EZRA MINKUS while they wait and URI MINKUS texting but present regardless. Farkle comes over to join them on the couch, grabbing the remote and starting to explain the concept behind the project.

They listen attentively, especially Stuart, seemingly more in tune with him after their chat.

**INT. BABINEAUX HOME - LIVING ROOM - NIGHT**

Zay is situated on the couch with a blanket, bandaged leg elevated properly. He’s researching on his laptop, looking at all the dates for his auditions for college, notably Turner Academy.

Everything is so, so close. So close to the estimated date he’ll have recovered, and lots of lost time to rehearse and prepare. And now he’s stuck with something he could’ve never prepared for.

Thankfully, he’s not alone. His panic attack is diverted when Donna comes to join him, bringing him a late night snack and keeping him company.

**INT. MATTHEWS APARTMENT - BATHROOM - NIGHT**

Maya is doing her nightly routine, taking extra care to floss her teeth. She pauses when she gets a text, checking her phone. It’s from Darby, in response to something she must’ve said earlier in the day. She claims it’s one of the nicest things Maya has ever said to her, and it meant a lot.

Maya grins, pleased as she pulls the floss from her teeth.

**INT. FRESCO ESTATE - CHAI’S BEDROOM - NIGHT**

Secret out, nothing left to hide. Chai scrolls through her failsafe of _AAAC_ receipts one last time… then deletes the album off her phone. Fully letting it go, accepting the consequences that might come next from her peers.

* * *

**INT. ERIC’S APARTMENT - ISADORA’S BEDROOM - NIGHT**

The music quiets as we settle on Isadora, going through the last of Valerie’s things. She adds the photo of Valerie holding her as a baby to the photo collage on her desk, pinning it in place.

There are other new things dotted around the room, such as a very fluffy looking grey throw blanket at the end of her bed, a jewelry box full of sparkling accessories by her mirror, and some memorabilia from Valerie’s time in _Cats_ hanging off Isadora’s wardrobe.

Isadora goes back to the boxes, which are a lot emptier than last we saw them. She takes out a pile of papers from one, briefly flicking through them. In the middle of the documents is a thick envelope. Isadora takes it out curiously, looking at it more closely.

In Valerie’s looping handwriting is an address in California. The name above the address is unfamiliar. _Zachary MacNamara._ Isadora furrows her brows. What was Valerie going to send to him? And who could have been important enough to keep an unsent letter to for so much time?

Leaning back against the foot of her bed, Isadora contemplates, running her thumb along her mom’s handwriting. Then she tears open the envelope, pulling out the letter and reading.

As she scans it, her eyes widen, expression hard to read but definitely stunned.

**_END OF EPISODE._ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so like. Hey y’all. I hate to be writing another scheduling update but given how the U.S. has kind of imploded and I’m trying to just keep up with the news and all that good stuff – as well as Es going through some personal health stuff – we’re going to go ahead and make this delay into an actual hiatus that we were planning for the mid-season (after 308). I’m not sure when exactly we’ll be back to airing episodes, but it will probably be February sometime (when we’ve gotten our ducks in a row and, hopefully, the U.S. isn’t on the verge of crumbling democracy).
> 
> The good news is, we’re rearranging our post plan so that when we come back, it will be for a significant stretch of time. We’re now breaking our season into 3 separate chunks rather than 2, so when we come back, we’re planning to air from 307 up through 312 (“Dylan and Asher”) with little to no post schedule interruption. We’ll have more details for y’all as they develop, but that’s our current plan at the moment.
> 
> Thank you all so much for your understanding and patience with us over here. Obviously, these circumstances are something we never anticipated having to deal with while trying to write the season… lol… so we appreciate your flexibility as we work through the unexpected. You rock! In the meantime, feel free to send us an ask if you wanna chat or have any questions, and we’re going to try and work through the inbox.
> 
> Good tidings and health for y’all!


	10. Can You Dig It? [ 3.07 ]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> STAYIN’ ALIVE – After an unfortunate accident, the A class finds themselves working double time to fund their showdown performance. Charlie struggles to balance the past and the present, and Maya makes a desperate move. Farkle receives news that changes his life forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ( Follow along with the music on Spotify [here](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/17qHHA7v0GQbxmmKZa10Hv?si=-1x_9vv1RySKFUuJcEfY_g)! )

**EXT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY**

Music plays over the sound system, setting a comfortable and fun scene while most of the A class works together on the auditorium stage. The performers are working through showdown choreography or helping put the finishing touches on set pieces for the production, while the techies are split between those set pieces, the beginning of structures for their upcoming winter musical, and tweaking the lights. JEFF MONROE is up on the catwalk out of sight, NATE MARTINEZ perched on top of a scaffolding and passing him requested tools. DAVE WILLIAMS is balancing on a ladder against the scaffolding, helping hand things to Nate from below.

MAYA HART has taken over as dance captain, shouting commands at her classmates still running through steps. ZAY BABINEAUX watches from on top of the major set piece they’re building at center stage for the musical, unimpressed and maybe a bit envious. His injured left leg is now in a boot, wheelchair gone.

The conversation varies, from the impending showdown finals to college application deadlines. Everything is coming down the pipeline at record speed, right towards them, and they have to juggle it all at once. RILEY MATTHEWS glances around and asks where Jade is, which ISADORA DE LA CRUZ answers.

> **Isadora:** She’s been locked up in the costume loft basically since last week. The deadline for her conservatory and apprenticeship programs is closing in, so she’s been working basically non-stop.
> 
> **Maya:** How does she not have enough samples already? Hasn’t she made everything we’ve ever worn in this school for the last three years?

A fair question, but it doesn’t get addressed. They’re all distracted by a new song coming on shuffle, playing loudly over the speakers.

* * *

**Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Boogie Wonderland” as performed by Earth, Wind & Fire || Instrumental**

Although the track is an undeniable bop, the assembled A class seniors don’t seem impressed. They all quickly pipe up to complain, calling for someone to skip it.

> **Darby:** Where’s Jeff? Jeff! Hit skip!
> 
> **Jeff, from above:** A little busy right now!
> 
> **Maya:** Well someone better go change it!
> 
> **Haley:** And risk getting killed by Lucas because we dared enter the booth? No thanks.
> 
> **Maya:** Fair point. Riley, go change it.

Riley, in the midst of rolling paint on a set piece, raises her free arm in a shrug. _Also a little busy._ Zay shakes his head.

> **Zay:** What is wrong with all of you? None of you have taste. Disco is classic. You should respect the excellence that came before you.
> 
> **Maya:** Sorry I’m not still living in the 20th century. It’s 2020, Zayby. Disco is dead.
> 
> **Zay:** You absolutely disgust me. If my foot wasn’t booted --

NIGEL CHEY finally relents amidst all their complaints, claiming he’ll risk his life to go change it if it will get them all to shut up.

For now, though, the boogie wonderland is ongoing. FARKLE MINKUS uses the opportunity to pick on Isadora, loosely disco grooving around her and trying to poke her into joining him. She laughs but tells him to cut it out, and when he gets too close, she playfully shoves him away.

Only she’s stronger than she looks, and he’s a beanpole, so she overshoots and pushes him a bit _too_ hard. Farkle goes stumbling backwards -- right into the ladder that’s holding up Dave. Isadora yanks Farkle back just as the ladder falls out from under Dave, just missing Nigel, clattering to the stage next to them and creating a dent.

_Dance! Boogie wonderland!_

A bunch of the seniors cry out, scrambling away, now watching in horror as Dave dangles from the side of the scaffolding a dozen or so feet above the ground. He almost loses his grip, seconds from falling, and Maya screams. She backs away frantically and knocks into a paint can, spilling metallic silver paint all over their perfectly crisp black stage and splattering CLARISSA CRUZ, DARBY WINTERS, and SARAH CARLSON.

_Ah! Ah! Dance!_

Jeff and a couple of performers start shouting directives at Dave, trying to save him from a nasty fall off the scaffolding. Nate tries to pull him up, but it’s no use -- Dave _is_ the giant after all, and Nate’s guns aren’t that swoll. Riley hides behind her hands, peeking through her fingers and unable to look away.

> **Riley:** Oh my God, he’s gonna die.

Isadora takes over directing from below, instructing Dave to change trajectory and aim for the curtains to orient himself. Jeff objects to that, citing the integrity of the curtain pulley system, but he’s shouted down by the performers jumping on Isadora’s suggestion. Suddenly, everyone is yelling at Dave to go for the curtains, so that’s what he does.

> **Jeff:** No, don’t -- !

_All… the… love in the world can’t be gone!_

Dave manages to latch onto the main curtain -- but it’s all downhill from there. That curtain is about as useless as Nate, and the pulley system holding it upright can only sustain so much weight (curtains are a lot heavier than they look). So the moment Dave latches on, it buckles underneath him, and seconds later the whole thing comes down in a spectacular show of destruction.

The A class scatters to avoid it, ducking down and covering their heads. Clarissa pulls HALEY FISHER down behind a set piece with her for cover; Farkle yanks Isadora out of the way and shields her behind him. Zay screws his eyes shut and hides behind his knee, thankfully a safe distance away. Then the dust settles, stunned silence giving way to the continuing groovy sounds of Earth, Wind, & Fire.

Riley pokes her head out from behind the set piece she was painting first, eyeing the heap of curtains and rods on the dented stage floor. She swallows.

> **Riley:** … Dave?

For a moment, nothing but tense silence… from above, Nate releases a gasp.

> **Nate:** Holy shit, we’ve killed him.

Then Dave emerges, pushing some dense drapery off of him and pushing himself into a sitting position. He seems dazed, but otherwise uninjured.

> **Jeff:** Oh, thank God.
> 
> **Isadora:** Dave… you good buddy?

Dave blinks, then offers a thumbs up. Everyone releases a sigh of relief… just as SHAWN HUNTER and HARPER BURGESS enter into the scene of chaos, having rushed in after hearing the commotion from down the hall. In the opposite wings, LUCAS JAMES FRIAR returns with DYLAN ORLANDO and ASHER GARCIA, all of whom stop dead in their tracks when they set their eyes on the disaster they’ve stumbled into. Asher’s jaw drops open; Dylan drops the toolbox he was carrying.

Whoopsie. _Boogie wonderland…_

From his perch atop the set piece, Zay breaks the silence, shaking his head.

> **Zay:** Shoulda never dissed disco.

* * *

**_Cue title sequence._ **

**INT. AAA - JACK’S OFFICE - DAY**

JACK HUNTER is seated at his desk, working to maintain a neutral composure as HARRISON YANCY paces his office. He’s haughty and on offense, demanding to know what happened with the auditorium and grilling Jack for details. Of all the things he planned to tangle with at Adams, vandalism and destruction of school property was not at the top of the list.

> **Yancy:** But, then, I suppose I should’ve anticipated such a turn of events. Considering you’ve struggled with reining in destruction before, and insisted so _vehemently_ on keeping problematic entities in your student roll -- and now they’re student leadership, in fact!
> 
> **Jack:** He had nothing to do with this. Lucas wasn’t even in the auditorium when it happened --
> 
> **Yancy:** How convenient for him.
> 
> **Jack:** And it was an _accident_. No ill intent involved. It was an accident, and all of the damage is repairable. The curtains can be fixed and replaced, the dents in the stage can be filled, and the spilled paint can be removed or painted over in turn. I think we should be more concerned with the lucky reality that no one was hurt.
> 
> **Yancy:** _[ ignoring that point ]_ The damage is repairable, yes, but it won’t be free. And I certainly won’t approve its reparation on the school’s dime.

Jack points out that such a decision isn’t his to make -- he’s still the principal of Adams. And that’s true enough, but as Yancy effortlessly counters, he remains under close watch. That’s the reason Yancy is present in the first place. Every decision Jack makes is under scrutiny, and a figurative nod of approval from him matters. Jack must be wise enough to realize that.

> **Jack, begrudgingly:** So what, then?
> 
> **Yancy:** So, it seems to me that the A class will have to proffer the money to pay for the damages on their own.
> 
> **Jack:** That’s ridiculous. They’re students, not entrepreneurs. And they’re already scrambling to raise money for their showdown performance, not to mention ways to bolster their scholarship initiative since _you_ voted to deny them funding at the board level.
> 
> **Yancy:** Then they must be experts at it. What’s one more money-making effort? At least it’s teaching them meaningful life skills -- budgeting, consequences, the value of a dollar. All very sensible lessons to learn… something you used to complain this institution lacked at the same time you were decrying the actions of students you now fruitlessly defend, if I recall correctly.

Well, you got him there, Yancy. Jack deflates, knowing there’s no logical path out of this. Yancy has him cornered, and the more he invites reminders about how he used to be or the ways he’s already fumbled, the graver his prospects grow. Yancy emphasizes this as he makes his exit.

> **Yancy:** We at the board used to hold you in high esteem, Jackson. We saw great things in your future. Now, with all these foolish mistakes... let’s hope that all your promise hasn’t dissolved with the Hunter I used to know.

The threat is buried deep beneath the thinly-veiled condescension, hidden in a simple choice of plural. _Mistakes_. This battle is just one in a long, growing list Yancy is keeping against him.

Like he could ever forget it. Jack releases a heavy sigh after Yancy leaves his office, slouching in his chair.

> **Lucas, pre-lap:** I shouldn’t be surprised. This might as well happen.

**INT. AAA - TECHNICIAN’S BOOTH - DAY**

Riley listens attentively as Lucas paces the booth, busying himself with gathering stuff for class for the sake of moving. Although his tone is sarcastic and indifferent, the weight of his words indicates he’s far from it.

> **Lucas:** It’s not like I don’t already have enough to focus on, between the usual bullshit and the fundraising for showdown -- a showdown that we have to win if we want any chance of the scholarship thing actually taking off. That on top of the college applications I wasn’t planning on doing three months ago but now have to make really good, because suddenly I have dreams or whatever, even though I’m basically the most rejectable candidate on the east coast.
> 
> **Riley:** Okay, you know that’s not true.
> 
> **Lucas:** Fine. Most rejectable candidate in the greater Manhattan area.
> 
> **Riley:** You literally won an election.
> 
> **Lucas:** And the world is still wondering how and why.

Riley rolls her eyes, but she is sympathetic. She agrees that the stage accident was definitely an unexpected speed bump on everything they’ve got going on, but they’ll figure out how to handle it. There’s no way it’s going to be entirely on them, anyway, and they don’t even know how much damage was actually done yet.

She takes the opportunity to broach another topic, though, easing into a deeper conversation about college. She asks how his applications are going, which he claims are fine, in spite of the stress surrounding it.

> **Lucas:** The only stuff I’ve got left are recommendations and personal essays. And I know I’m fucked on the recs considering you’re supposed to ask for those months in advance, and I know no one impressive, least of all who would sing my praises.
> 
> **Riley:** You could always ask my dad for a recommendation. I’m sure he’d have glowing things to say. Instant acceptance, I bet.
> 
> **Lucas, flatly:** You are hilarious. It’s no mystery how you managed to reel me in.
> 
> **Riley:** Well, that and my effortless charm and insanely dazzling visage.

Lucas gives her a look, but to be fair, he doesn’t argue her on it. She simply beams in response, sliding closer to him and halting his pacing by taking his hands.

> **Lucas:** Honestly, I’m not really stuck on the recommendations. I think I’m going to ask Joe for one, because he can at least speak to my work ethic or whatever, and the other… I mean, it’s whatever. I’ll figure it out.
> 
> **Riley:** But…?
> 
> **Lucas:** But… I don’t know. With the rest of the app…

It’s clear there’s something else he’s really stuck on. Riley starts to offer him advice, or maybe just encouragement, but they’re interrupted by a knock on the booth door. Jeff appears moments later at the stairs.

> **Jeff:** Class is starting. Judgment day is upon us.

Lucas and Riley share an apprehensive look, then follow the lighting technician out of the booth.

**INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY**

Harper, Shawn, and ERIC MATTHEWS are on the stage, assessing the damage while the A class gathers in the front and center section. The destroyed curtain has been removed, the pock marks in the stage even more visible in its absence.

ANGELA MOORE emerges from the wings, Janitor HARLEY KEINER in tow. She’s just barely starting to show her pregnancy, but the flowy tops she’s wearing now conceal it fairly well.

> **Harley:** Old curtain’s out back. Trash company will be by this afternoon to take it away.
> 
> **Angela:** I have to say, I picked a great day to stop by and visit. Never a dull moment.
> 
> **Harper:** Girl, tell me about it.

Angela laughs knowingly. Been there, queen. Eric and Shawn turn their attention to the seniors, coming towards the front of the stage.

> **Eric:** Who wants to explain what exactly happened?

A whole bunch of them immediately launch into retellings, talking over each other and definitely exaggerating elements of the story. The camera jumps around to each of them, catching snippets of their perspective.

> **Sarah:** If Jeff had just changed the song --
> 
> **Jeff:** I was in the catwalk!
> 
> **Nate:** So Jeff’s up in the catwalk, and Dave is handing me shit -- I mean, uh, stuff -- on the scaffolding --
> 
> **Darby:** Isadora pushed Farkle --
> 
> **Isadora:** I lightly nudged Farkle --
> 
> **Maya:** Farkle is like a house of cards and all it takes is a little wind to knock him over, so he goes flying into the ladder --
> 
> **Clarissa:** Paint splatters --
> 
> **Yindra:** The ladder goes crashing down and nearly takes off Nigel’s head --
> 
> **Jade:** Oh my God, what?
> 
> **Nigel, pointedly:** No, it did not. _[ softer, to Jade ]_ No, it didn’t.
> 
> **Yindra:** It did.
> 
> **Haley:** Not like the curtains almost took out Dave!
> 
> **Yogi:** This class is a circus act.

Eric holds up a hand to halt them all, waving them down. He can’t figure out what any of them are saying when they all talk at once, so he asks for a volunteer to give the rundown. A few hands up go up, but Eric wisely selects Zay.

He pulls himself to his feet, gingerly, for the effect. Then he clears his throat, speaking plainly and matter-of-fact.

> **Zay:** Farkle got knocked into the ladder. Ladder falls, dents stage. Dave almost falls, Nate is no help --
> 
> **Nate:** Whoa, okay then. Hater.
> 
> **Zay:** Maya stumbles back and knocks silver paint can over. Performers tell Dave to grab curtain, Jeff objects --
> 
> **Jeff:** Justice. Thank you.
> 
> **Zay:** Dave does anyway, whole thing comes down. Also, no one in this class has taste and for that they evoked the wrath of God. But apparently God can’t kill Dave Williams.
> 
> **Dylan:** So metal.
> 
> **Eric:** Thank you, Zay.

Zay does a pithy salute, lowering back into his seat. Harper goes on to explain the total damages done by the incident as well as relay the total cost of the repairs -- without saying a definitive sum, suffice to say it’s not cheap.

The A class immediately breaks into chatter again, trying to divert blame off themselves. Shawn notices one student doesn’t seem particularly vexed -- in fact, he appears to be laughing to himself behind his hand.

> **Shawn:** I’m sorry, Friar, do you find this funny?
> 
> **Lucas:** What? Oh, no, no. Very serious business. _[ clearing his throat ]_ It’s just… it’s so nice to not be the one responsible for once.

The performers immediately boo him. He simply smiles. CHAI FRESCO is the one who manages to redirect the conversation.

> **Chai:** What exactly is he doing here?

All eyes turn to Janitor Harley, who stands sheepishly next to the faculty. Harper says she’s glad Chai asked, claiming that if anyone deserves an apology for what they did today, it would be him. He puts a lot of effort and care into maintaining their sacred space, this auditorium, and the damage done today walks all over that.

> **Darby:** It really was an accident.
> 
> **Harley:** No hard feelings, Miss Winters. Mighty nice as it was for Harper and Shawn to invite me here, rest assured I know there was no ill intent or disrespect. And I can assure you that with the time and proper resources, we will return this stage to tip-top shape in no time.
> 
> **Maya:** Lovely. Problem solved then, no?
> 
> **Eric:** Not quite. You do still have an assignment to attend to, especially as it’s your last major one before finals.
> 
> **Harper:** Since it is a weird time in the calendar and we don’t want to barrel another assignment next week right before showdown, Shawn and I agreed that this assignment would be a two-week stretch, and ideally lower stakes.
> 
> **Shawn:** Even better now, considering how you all just doubled pressure on your own.
> 
> **Harper:** And since you’ve also in turn given Harley more pressure and work to attend to in this time, we thought it only fair that _he_ decide your focus for the project.

With that, they pass the floor over to Harley again to make his declaration. The performers don’t seem all that unnerved -- it’s Harley Keiner. What’s the worst he could do? Clean-up anthems? He clears his throat, clasping his biker-gloved hands together.

> **Harley:** When I’m in a particularly rough spot, or working through a grueling task, I have always found that a little music can really liven the task.
> 
> **Yogi:** _[ under his breath ]_ Clean up, clean up, everybody everywhere…
> 
> **Harley:** But nothing gets me more fired up, ready to take on a challenge or dance to the beat, than some classic tunes from my early youth. And I’ll tell you kids, no one knew music better than the radio hits of _my_ day.

Slowly, the possibility begins to dawn on the A class what decree awaits them. Dylan is counting backwards on his fingers, trying to calculate just how old Harley actually _is_ , but Asher next to him has beaten him to it.

> **Asher:** Oh no.
> 
> **Harley:** Ladies and gentleboys, we’ll be taking it back to the ‘70s this week for your musical assignments.

_Dun dun dun._ The A class expresses their obvious disdain. Well, all except Zay, who cracks a smug grin.

> **Zay:** Heh heh… karma.

There’s only more grim news. Considering the stage is going to be undergoing repairs thanks to all this, they’re all essentially ousted from the auditorium for the time being. No sense practicing or rehearsing in a space that’s going to be under construction. JADE BEAMON sits up straighter, shooting her hand in the air.

> **Jade:** We can still access the lofts, right? Like, I can get in the costume loft --
> 
> **Eric:** Yes, all the technical spaces, as well as the dressing rooms, are still fair game. But stay away from the stage.
> 
> **Harper:** And you might not get much work done when they’re doing things like drilling and hammering, so be forewarned.

Haunting… Jade hides in her hands, already stressed. Nigel tentatively pats her on the shoulder.

So yeah, all in all, some unideal circumstances right before some of the most important events of their high school career.

**INT. AAA - CAFETERIA - DAY**

Maya is in surprisingly good spirits in spite of the financial issues confronting the class, preening and showing off Valerie’s faux fur coat. She wears it effortlessly, entertaining Darby, Sarah, and a crop of underclassmen at a table as she shares the tale of her and Valerie’s instant starlit bond. When Darby reaches out to feel the coat, Maya quickly smacks her hand away.

> **Maya:** You’re welcome and encouraged to look, but no touchie. Golden diva rule.

A couple of tables over, Riley and Isadora watch her showboating with amusement. Riley claims it was really generous of Isadora to give her the coat, but she shrugs it off.

> **Isadora:** Seriously, she’s way more at home in it than I would ever be. Can you ever see me pulling that off?
> 
> **Riley:** I think you can deliver any design you endeavor, you know that. _[ off her raised eyebrow ]_ But yeah, a bit out of your element. Ironically, maybe.
> 
> **Isadora:** Even that’s a stretch. But it really wasn’t a hard decision. As much as it inflates her ego, my mom did see something in her. Maya can use it as a bragging tool all she wants, and people probably won’t believe her because of it, but they probably would be in cahoots if Val were still here. _[ a beat ]_ A lot of things were going to happen if she were here.

Oof. Riley senses the gloom impending, searching for a quick change of subject. She asks if Isadora found anything else cool in the boxes from the estate.

Isadora pauses, mouth parted open. The answer is plenty -- including the mystery hidden way deep down underneath everything else. But for whatever reason, she hesitates explaining what she found.

Thankfully, she doesn’t have to respond anyway. Dylan swoops into their conversation, dropping down into the seat next to Riley and smacking a piece of paper onto the table. It’s a flyer for scheme one of their fundraising efforts: a community dance, now officially ‘70s themed. Isadora turns it around to get a better look at the very bright poster.

> **Dylan:** Hot off the presses, ladies. Another instant classic from the one and only ambassador of public relational fun and enthusiasm, comma right hand advisor, comma prime minister of the techies and secretary of kissing, mainly to the secretary _and_ official marketing and communications director for the Friar administration.
> 
> **Isadora:** Colorful…
> 
> **Dylan:** Shout-out to Harley for basically choosing our theme for us. We’d been sitting on it for ages because Asher and Maya kept fighting over it.
> 
> **Isadora:** Really? What theme ideas could possibly be worth scrapping over?
> 
> **Dylan:** Nothing. Neither of them actually had an idea. I think they just automatically hate anything that comes out of the others’ mouth.
> 
> **Isadora:** Wow, just like a real body politic.

Riley excitedly swipes the flyer, praising Dylan for his enthusiastic design. She snaps a picture of it on her phone and explains she’s texting it to Charlie.

> **Riley:** I’m so pumped for this. Disco isn’t my _favorite_ thing, but it is fun.
> 
> **Dylan:** Bouncy.
> 
> **Isadora:** Jaunty.
> 
> **Dylan:** Ooh, thesaurus bonus.

Dylan and Isadora exchange a quick high five. Riley beams at them, then continues.

> **Riley:** Besides, with how extremely crazy everything is right now between college apps and showdown and now this fundraising debacle, I think it’ll give all of us some much-needed serotonin. A nice evening of… disco dopamine.
> 
> **Dylan:** Oh, you know you just wanna see Lucas in some sick bellbottoms.
> 
> **Isadora:** _[ with a gag ]_ God… please, I’m sitting right here...

Riley shoves Dylan playfully, then reiterates the point. It will be _fun_. A nice, well-deserved stress reliever after working their asses off these next couple weeks.

**INT. AAA - COSTUME LOFT - DAY**

And boy howdy, that could not be truer for Jade. She is in full frenzy mode, skipping lunch and hunkered down in the costume loft to work. It seems like she’s been there for days, her space under the loft essentially a nest of costuming supplies, her belongings, and discarded snack containers. Her hair is a mess of tangles falling half out of a ponytail, three different tape measures are draped around her neck like graduation cords, and she’s wearing an old button up paint smock about 3 sizes too large that only exacerbates the crazed hermit energy.

Asher and Jeff listen as she multitasks on cataloguing some of her projects and marks another in progress on the table in front of her, the former visibly disconcerted by Jade’s general state of being while the latter seems mainly tickled. She speaks around a pin caught between her lips as she explains the reason for the chaos -- college applications are due right around the corner, as are apprenticeship applications, and she needs to have all her portfolio pieces in perfect condition before she hits that submit button.

> **Asher:** Again, I know this is hypocritical coming from me, but girl you _need_ to relax.

Jade snaps her head up to glare at him, even scarier with that pin in her mouth. She removes it to stick something down while Jeff asks her what she has left to do. Apparently, she’s just about done after days of relentless work, so she’s on her last application assignment now: pick a decade and create a sampling of as many unique -- but historically accurate -- costumes as possible in her designer’s mind.

> **Jade:** Luckily, Janitor Harley did me the favor of having to pick a decade. If we’re doing ‘70s stuff this week anyway, then we’ll probably need costumes, so I can knock out two birds with one stone.
> 
> **Jeff:** I don’t know if I’d say _need_ …
> 
> **Asher:** Yeah, with the auditorium boarded up for the time being I doubt we’ll be doing any major productions.
> 
> **Jade:** With Maya and Farkle, you can never be too careful.

Case in point, she is way too swamped to even think about the fundraising bullshit. She feels bad, but there’s no way she can split her time. Jeff and Asher assure her it’s no big deal.

> **Jeff:** I think the performers will let you off the hook considering you’ve made… every single costume they’ve ever worn since freshman year.
> 
> **Asher:** Least they could do.
> 
> **Jeff:** Yeah. You deserve a week off!

Jeff’s turn to receive the Jade Beamon death glare. He clears his throat, scratching his ear.

> **Jeff:** Well, you know… not for _you_ , but...

Jade stabs the pin cushion pointedly.

> **Zay, pre-lap:** I guess if my clear eternal damnation is good for anything, it gets me out of fundraising to fix another problem caused by Farkle and the Pips.

**INT. AAA - BOYS DRESSING ROOM - DAY**

Zay and Nigel are taking their lunch in the boys dressing room, both on their laptops while they eat. They’re working on finalizing college application stuff, Zay sitting on the counter with his injured foot propped up while Nigel is leaning against the mirrors on the floor.

> **Nigel:** Guess it’s worth it then.
> 
> **Zay:** Ha ha, so funny. If I could afford to move, I would kill you for being such a damn comedian.
> 
> **Nigel:** I’m more of a tragedies man myself. _[ a beat ]_ What are you planning to do, exactly? For the applications.
> 
> **Zay:** _[ with a sigh ]_ Just putting the pieces together and hoping for the best. Thank fuck I recorded a couple runs of my routine when I was going through my obsessive drills at the start of the year.
> 
> **Nigel:** Glad Diva Zay was good for something.
> 
> **Zay:** They’re not as polished as I want, but they’ll do. Not like I have any other options. I’m just going to convince myself via self-hypnosis that they’ll see the rough edges as loose, natural charm. Between that and other samples I have from shows and recitals and _West Side Story_ , all I can do is hope that’s enough. And if I get far enough to book an audition… I’ll be better by then.

He says it like a guarantee -- he can’t consider the alternative. Nigel isn’t sure how to respond, but he’s spared from figuring it out as they’re interrupted by YINDRA AMINO entering with a few showdown costumes to replace on the rack. All of them freeze as they glance at one another, Yindra and Zay holding one another’s gaze for a few moments longer. Then Yindra brushes past the awkwardness, shrugging and focusing on the costume rack.

> **Yindra:** No need to go on defense, boys. I’m only here on business.

She keeps her eyes on her task. Nigel picks up the conversational slack, explaining that they were discussing their college applications. He asks how Yindra is doing in plotting her college plans, as last they talked she didn’t have much set in stone.

> **Yindra, matter-of-fact:** I’ll be applying to a couple of schools as a safety net, but my main trajectory remains Los Angeles. The current plan right now is to skip over the bureaucracy of academics I don’t care about and go out there to start striking while the iron is hot. Talent speaks for itself.

Nigel, ever the pragmatist, still seems uneasy about such a plan, but it’s Zay who beats him to the punch. He breaks the silence between him and Yindra with a snort, tone teasing but friendly.

> **Zay:** Straight to Los Angeles with no foundation? Now that’s just asking for trouble, and that’s coming from a diva like me. Haven’t you seen _Fame_?

Maybe that kind of friendly fire passes when they’re on good terms, but it falls flat now. Yindra stiffens her shoulders, giving Zay a diva glare of her own.

> **Yindra:** _[ without looking at him ]_ Nigel, will you please inform Zay that despite what his superiority complex might think, I’m not an idiot?
> 
> **Nigel:** Oh, um --
> 
> **Zay:** Come on, Yindra. I didn’t mean it like that.
> 
> **Yindra:** And Zay might find it interesting to know that my dad is considering moving to Los Angeles as well, if I plan to be out there, so I don’t see how I’m swinging with no foundation. And I’ll be using the money that we would’ve wasted on tuition for studio time to record a demo, so there is in fact a method behind the madness. Just because I’m not following the same musty, beaten path as everyone else doesn’t mean I’m not on any path at all. _[ haughtily ]_ And even in spite of his broke attitude, I wish him all the best with his less-than-ideal circumstances. Least of all this week -- I’m sure not being able to show off while he discos is simply killing him. Thanks for letting him know, Nigel.
> 
> **Nigel:** … you’re welcome...

With that, Yindra spins on her heel and exits. Zay rolls his eyes, but it’s clear that the state of their friendship is really bothering him. Nigel awkwardly attempts to move past it, commenting that the two of them are about as dramatic as a Shakespearean comedy of errors before coming back to Yindra’s closing point.

> **Nigel:** It’s a shame about this assignment though. You’re probably the only one in our class who could truly thrive this week.

Zay smiles half-heartedly, both of them focusing back on their computers. After a moment, his smile dims.

> **Zay:** Didn’t use to be…

**INT. HAVERFORD PREP - HALLWAY - DAY**

CHARLIE GARDNER is at his locker, reading the texts from Riley. He pulls up the photo of the flyer for the dance fundraiser, boasting the disco theme for the end of the semester in all its groovy glory.

Yes, it is a tragedy that Charlie isn’t there to participate. Another disco gay, barred from the dance floor. It’s clear from his expression that he’s bummed about it.

He’s only pulled out of his fugue when EVAN SCOTT approaches. He pats him on the shoulder as he passes and asks if he’s ready for rehearsal. With senior showdown finals so close around the corner, Brandon is going to be drilling them more than ever. Now it’s game time for real.

Charlie nods, putting his phone away and shutting his locker to follow him. But that melancholy still lingers in his features.

**INT. AAA - JACK’S OFFICE - DAY**

But he’s not the only one grappling with an unideal situation. Lucas is the king of that, settled in his usual chair across from Jack, only this time he’s not alone. Maya has been called in with him, the two of them waiting uncertainly as Jack prepares to share why he brought them in.

And the reason for his apprehension is obvious once he says it. He finally breaks the news to them that the school board declined to fund their scholarship initiative -- and that’s not even the worst part.

> **Maya:** _Nothing_? 
> 
> **Lucas:** They’re not going to contribute anything?
> 
> **Jack:** I know, it’s disappointing. To be honest, I was anticipating at least a partial donation, but for whatever reason it was shot down wholesale. It was close, though.
> 
> **Maya:** Well. That’s just lovely. Could the state of the AAA union get any more despicable?
> 
> **Jack:** To put it simply? Yes.

Uh oh. Jack reluctantly informs them of the other bomb blowing up their administration -- that Yancy has insisted _they_ pay for the damages to the auditorium since their class caused it. Both Lucas and Maya erupt in complaints, the latter literally leaping out of her chair and launching into a frantic pace behind it. She fans herself, taking deep breaths.

> **Maya:** Okay. This is fine. No money, no problems. It’s fine. It’s fine!
> 
> **Jack:** … Miss Hart?

Maya stops behind her vacated seat, gripping the back of it. She takes in a _deep_ breath, holds it, and releases it theatrically. Then she opens her eyes, plastering on her winning star smile.

> **Maya:** It’s okay. Yes, everything is fine. The situation is unideal, in a word --
> 
> **Lucas:** More like bullshit.
> 
> **Maya:** Also a word. But money and I have been tussling my whole career. It won’t be getting the best of me now. We’ll come up with another way to fundraise alongside the dance social and then we will win showdown and absolutely everything will work out exactly how I want it to. It always does.
> 
> **Jack:** That so?
> 
> **Maya:** Thanks to the two powers that be, Principal Hunter -- star and will. And I’ve got both in spades. _[ another breath ]_ Okay, damage control. Need new ideas. Gotta pool resources… brainstorm. I need to brainstorm. I’m thinking… I’m scheming...

Maya hums, entering zen diva mode as she gathers her things. She backs out of the office and assures Lucas she’ll update him as soon as she’s figured out their second moneymaker. Once she’s gone, Lucas and Jack wait a moment to let the Maya pheromones dissipate before continuing the conversation.

> **Jack:** Say what you will about her, can’t pretend she doesn’t have moxie. An interesting choice to partner with you.
> 
> **Lucas:** Believe it or not -- and I’ll deny it if you tell anyone -- I think she’s the best second-in-command I could’ve picked. Somehow her brand of insanity is just right for the Minesweeper that is Triple A student government.

Hard to argue with that. Jack apologizes again for the fact that so much seems to be piling on him at once. He really did think they would get more help from the board… but they’ll keep marching on regardless. The initiative is worth fighting for, and besides, their fundraisers could really outsell their expectations. Especially with a theme like disco, their dance will probably be a smashing success. Lucas can’t help but smirk.

> **Lucas:** Yeah, you’d know all about that, huh? Bet you were just a disco king back in your day.
> 
> **Jack, flatly:** How old do you think I am to have been discoing in the ‘70s?

Cheekiness notwithstanding, the prospects seem good. Not all hope is lost. Jack switches gears, checking in with how Lucas is doing on his applications with deadlines fast approaching. Lucas gives the same general response he gave Riley, tiptoeing around the challenge of the essay component and focusing on the fact that he might get it done at all. Now that it’s so close, it feels more and more daunting… not to mention all the other pressure that seems to be landing on top of him right at the same time.

Jack hears that, and dismisses Lucas so he has time to go deal with all those pressures. Before he walks out, Lucas pauses and turns back for one more thing. He struggles to articulate it since asking for any sort of help feels like specialized torture, but he manages to ask if Jack would be willing to write him a letter of recommendation for the applications. The request surprises Jack, which Lucas reads as discomfort.

> **Lucas:** I know it’s like, pretty last minute and stuff. And there probably isn’t a lot to say about me, so it’ll take some work to throw something compelling together. I should’ve asked sooner, or like, bothered someone else. So I totally get it if you don’t have time or have too much to do or just, you know, don’t want to --

Jack is far from opposed, though. In fact, he’s touched by the request, expression softening to a smile.

> **Jack:** Lucas. _[ waiting for him to quiet ]_ I’d be happy to write one for you. It’s no problem at all.
> 
> **Lucas:** … okay. Cool. Um, thanks.
> 
> **Jack:** You’re quite welcome.
> 
> **Lucas:** I’ll send over the links and stuff later. Today. Later today. So it’s not any later.
> 
> **Jack:** Whatever works for you.
> 
> **Lucas:** Okay… okay. Cool.

Any more bashful vulnerability and Lucas just might implode. He mutters one more quick thanks and scampers away, Jack holding back his amusement long enough to spare Lucas further embarrassment. He chuckles to himself as he shifts back to his work, shaking his head.

**INT. ERIC’S APARTMENT - ISADORA’S BEDROOM - DAY**

Surrounded by various textbooks and scripts and with her laptop propped in front of her, Isadora sits on her bed. A half-finished essay about how the horror genre has developed over the years is open on her screen, but has been entirely abandoned in favor of the mysterious letter Valerie had in her belongings. Isadora holds several handwritten pages, eyebrows furrowed as she reads her mother’s words. She moves the first page to the side, and we catch a glimpse of Val’s loopy handwriting:

_Dearest Zachary,_

_How lovely it is to hear from an old friend! I’m so glad that you’re doing well. Send my well wishes to that darling wife of yours._

_To answer your question, I wasn’t entirely sure of who Isadora’s father was when I discovered I was pregnant -- as you well know, I often got rather drunk back then, so couldn’t be entirely sure of all my actions. However, upon reflection, I have come to the same conclusion as you._

Well, damn. Heavy stuff, even if somewhat rose-tinted through Valerie’s flowery language. Isadora bites her lip as she continues reading, clearly conflicted about this sudden revelation. 

> **Eric, off-screen:** Dinner’s ready!

Isadora doesn’t seem to hear Eric’s yell, so after a moment, Eric comes to her room to tell her directly. She still doesn’t look up from the letter, peaking Eric’s interest. 

> **Eric:** What are you reading?
> 
> **Isadora:** Hm? Oh, nothing.

She folds up the papers and shoves them under one of her notebooks nearby, giving Eric a small forced smile. He narrows his eyes at her, jokingly suspicious, which Isadora laughs off. She hops off her bed and asks what’s for dinner, successfully distracting him.

**INT. THERAPIST’S OFFICE - DAY**

Farkle is meeting with DR. MICHELLE HAN, assembled in their usual positions with her in her arm chair and him sprawled across the couch. He’s relaying the drama of the week and his unfortunate instrumental role in all the destruction, though at least this time it was far from intentional. But it’s clear he feels guilty about it, and he admits that his uncanny knack for making things worse is definitely not helping him combat those low moods that seem to creep up on him out of nowhere.

Dr. Han perks up at this, taking the opportunity to gear the conversation. She gently asks if they could discuss that further for a bit, his experience with the high and low moods. Everybody has off days, of course, but based on their previous discussions, she’s interested to hear more about how Farkle describes these different emotional states and the other factors that come with it.

It’s not hard to get Farkle to talk. He obliges without hesitation, launching into details about how it feels when he’s feeling especially frenzied -- sort of the opposite of what he’s dancing around now, but such a vivid experience when he’s in it that he remembers the sensation and always can vibe when it’s coming on. Dr. Han listens carefully, flipping to a clean page in her notepad to jot down his thoughts.

Farkle doesn’t think anything of it, but it seems like Dr. Han might be onto something more than just the typical one-on-one chat. A pronounced clapping counts us in...

**INT. HAVERFORD PREP - AUDITORIUM - DAY**

BRANDON RIVAS is clapping along to the downbeat while the Havies run through their showdown routine, the instrumental from _How to Succeed_ playing on the speakers. He’s keeping a watchful eye on his classmates while they run through the choreography, shouting out when someone is off a beat or not sharp enough on the steps.

Charlie is definitely one of those people. He’s a couple of steps behind today, mind elsewhere, and when he accidentally bumps into BILLY ROSS he receives a glare in response. _What’s the matter with you, man?_

> **Brandon:** Come on, Gardner! This is your choreography!

Fair point, Brandon. Charlie tries to get back on track, but lucky for him he’s far from the only one struggling this week. DWEEZIL HOWARD is out of step too, and his mistakes reverberate way more as he accidentally sends half the boys into a wave of near stumbles. Brandon yells for everyone to stop, shaking his head as Evan jogs to pause the music.

> **Brandon:** This is not the time to get soft, guys. Showdown is right around the corner.
> 
> **Havie:** So what? It’s not like Adams is any competition. Six years of success speak for themselves.
> 
> **Brandon:** And complacency is the first step in breaking that streak. You want to be credited when that takes us down? _[ off his head shake ]_ So, what’s going on? Is there some contagious case of vertigo going around that makes you all unable to balance on your own two feet?

Charlie chews his lip, shying away from the disappointment. He’s not the only recipient, but he knows he doesn’t have a good excuse -- and certainly not one Brandon would want to hear. But Dweezil answers first anyway, much more visibly frazzled than him.

> **Dweezil:** I’m sorry, Brandon. I’m just really stressing about the MIT app.

Others murmur agreement, mentioning their own upcoming dream school deadlines and the pressure of finishing their applications. Charlie nods along as if that’s his problem too.

Brandon considers this for a long moment, scanning over his peers. He may have high expectations, but he’s not without compassion for his boys. He relents and expresses sympathy for everybody’s stress, claiming they can call it quits early today and cut down on afternoon rehearsals for the next few days while everyone is wrapping up applications.

The boys breathe a collective sigh of relief, thanking Brandon and starting to disperse. Brandon shouts after them to send those apps in fast and get ready to come back to work harder than ever -- they’re not going to slip and fall to AAA on his watch. Billy exchanges a handshake with him and suggests he take some time off to focus on himself, too, but Brandon shrugs this off.

> **Brandon:** No, it’s fine. Think I’ll be able to make use of the time… might have to make some adjustments to the numbers anyway. _[ quirking an eyebrow ]_ Make sure we’re the best we can possibly be.

For what it’s worth, the statement seems less than innocuous. It kind of feels like Brandon knows something we don’t, and based on Billy’s smug reaction, he’s in on it too. They exchange another fist bump before Billy heads out.

Charlie is one of the last to leave, pausing in packing up to check his phone. He’s got a surprising amount of texts on his lock screen, all from Daisy. He opens the thread, finding just under a dozen texts of her sharing live updates with him of an argument that apparently broke out between Rosie and Eleanor. Although her observations are characteristically dry and analytical -- a technical play-by-play rather than biased record -- the fact that she’s telling Charlie about it at all is a sign that she’s concerned about it. The final message she sent kind of sums up the looming stakes without saying so:

_“Didn’t this happen with Bridgette?”_

Either way, not good news. Charlie frowns. Before he figures out how to respond, Brandon startles him.

> **Brandon:** All good, Charles?
> 
> **Charlie:** Uh, yeah. Yeah, just, you know. Lots on my mind. It was cool of you to give everyone a break right now.
> 
> **Brandon:** Well. _[ with a shrug ]_ Nothing too serious going on with you, I hope. We need your talent to up our dance credentials -- I assume you realize by now how valuable you are to the team.
> 
> **Charlie:** Oh, well…
> 
> **Brandon:** Can’t afford to let anything distract us right now if we’re to come out victorious against Adams. _[ a beat ]_ Least of all Adams itself… you know, it’s okay if you’re feeling conflicted…

Conflicted might be a bit strong -- although Charlie lives basically every day of his life conflicted -- but the notion that Brandon is even _close_ to sensing what’s actually going on in his head sets him on edge. He clears his throat, frantically attempting to throw him off the trail.

> **Charlie:** Oh, no. No. It’s um -- just family stuff. Stuff with my sisters.
> 
> **Brandon:** Ah… sibling nonsense. I get that. I’ve got two older brothers, and even though they’re not at home anymore it’s like I’m still carrying their baggage around.
> 
> **Charlie:** Big shoes to fill?
> 
> **Brandon:** Well, one was valedictorian and is starting his first year at Harvard Law, and the other is starting his third year in prison. So kind of high bars in either direction.

Well. No idea how to respond to that little fun fact. Brandon spares Charlie the awkwardness and lets him go, wishing him a good afternoon.

But pleasant as he is, it’s evident he doesn’t fully buy Charlie’s excuse.

**INT. CHUBBIES - DAY**

Isadora is at the counter at Chubbies, discussing all of the impending stressors with Lucas during his shift. They’re especially mindful of how Lucas’s scholarship plan is now basically hinging solely on a victory at showdown, which is feeling more and more like a long shot. With Zay no longer able to bolster their performance, they’re short star power.

> **Isadora:** And since Haverford has Charlie, who is basically his counterweight, suddenly the scales are tipped heavily in their favor. We’ll be lucky if we can create some Frankenstein performance around the gaping hole Zay leaves behind.
> 
> **Lucas:** Have you thought about stepping up in his place? Not that you’re anywhere near the level of dancer that he is, but you do purportedly have star power.
> 
> **Isadora:** Gee, thanks. I’m honestly shocked you’re suggesting this.
> 
> **Lucas:** Believe me, it hurts. But I’ve got stakes riding on this too, and I know you’re talented. Maybe you could help prop things back up so we’ve got at least a shot of winning.
> 
> **Isadora:** I don’t know… I mean, I know I performed the other week, but it was all about that assignment, you know? It was specifically _because_ it was out of my comfort zone. _[ a beat ]_ Though, why, I don’t even really know anymore…

She feels more confused about performing these days than averse, with all the grieving she’s done over Valerie, but confusion still feels dangerous. Probably safer to just stay on the sidelines… probably...

Speaking of dangerous tasks, Isadora shifts to college applications. She submitted her NYU film school application ages ago, and she’s got a couple of other things in the pipeline, but she’s much more interested in how Lucas is dealing with his. When he feeds her the same lines he’s been telling everyone else, she raises her eyebrows. Not buying it.

Leave it to Isadora to see right through him. Lucas sighs, relenting and explaining that the essays are killing him. It’s like, everything else he can scrape together, fake, pull off like he’s scraped through everything else in his life. But the personal statements…

> **Lucas:** I hate writing about myself. Why should all of my potential rest on how well I can sell myself in some 500-word anecdote? As if that paints the complete picture. Not that I want that either -- the full picture isn’t pretty. How am I supposed to convince some strangers to take a chance on me when _I_ don’t even believe it? If I had the choice whether or not to know myself, I wouldn’t.
> 
> **Isadora:** Wonder what that says about those of us who do choose to know you.
> 
> **Lucas:** And what am I going to say? Howdy, I’m a son of a bitch, please let me into your school and give me your money to do so? Great fucking deal.

Isadora rolls her eyes. She points out that although he doesn’t want to hear it, when it comes to finances he knows she can help. Once the money from her inheritance fully comes through, she’ll have plenty that she doesn’t know what to do with. If she’s going to use it to help others -- especially those she cares about -- then helping him pursue his dreams is a non-issue. But, predictably, Lucas recoils at the suggestion.

> **Isadora:** I swear, you are impossible. And you have such a weird hang-up about money.
> 
> **Lucas:** Yeah, views that you shared until about a month ago.
> 
> **Isadora:** Well, I’ve grown. I can see the nuances in money now and how it goes around. And I’m just saying that if you’ve got all these complexes around who has it and who can give it to you when you’re stuck on the bottom rung, then --

No doubt it’s a complicated series of complexes. As Isadora is settling into her rant, MISSY BRADFORD enters the diner. Lucas glances over Isadora’s shoulder and spots her, immediately clamming up.

> **Isadora:** ...it’s what Reagan sold as trickle-down economics, but the thing is if you don’t give any money to the lowest income households from the get-go, then they never --
> 
> **Lucas:** Yeah, yeah, okay. I’ve got to go to the back.

Lucas retreats from the counter without waiting for permission, causing Isadora to scoff. She wasn’t finished! But he’s already gone, leaving her high and dry. But he also successfully avoided Missy, who steps up the counter for a pick-up order and is helped by another employee instead. She doesn’t acknowledge Isadora, who eyes her judgmentally from her stool.

As Missy collects her order and leaves -- glancing over her shoulder one last time for her usual Chubbies worker -- Dylan and Asher enter with Farkle. They join Isadora at the counter, asking where Lucas is. She shrugs, claiming he disappeared to deal with something.

> **Farkle:** You ready to go? Is Maya here yet?
> 
> **Isadora:** Not yet. Figure she’ll be a bit late after the “atomic bomb” Jack dropped on her and Lucas -- her words, not mine.
> 
> **Asher:** What are you all up to?
> 
> **Isadora:** Since Farkle and I were _technically_ responsible for the destruction in the auditorium --
> 
> **Farkle:** One could make the argument that I should have died last year.
> 
> **Dylan:** That would be a sick personal essay.
> 
> **Isadora:** We thought it was only fair that we put in the time to help Maya craft whatever last-minute fundraising effort we’re going to pull together to cover it.

As for Dylan and Asher, they were just stopping by to catch up with Lucas before going to practice their assignment for the week. Isadora commends Asher for performing again, considering it was so out of his comfort zone.

> **Farkle:** Yeah, that’s not -- you’re not thinking of making that a habit, are you? Not asking for any reason, just curious. Not because you’re also a tenor. I’m just wondering.
> 
> **Isadora:** Smooth.
> 
> **Asher:** No, not planning to change career paths. Rest easy, Farkle. Just getting this out of the way sooner rather than later. _[ nodding to Dylan ]_ It’s not as bad since we’re doing it together. And besides, can’t ignore the pull of the funk.
> 
> **Dylan, wisely:** Disco is for the gays.
> 
> **Asher:** Gotta pay our dues and get down with the boogie.

Far out, fellas! Isadora and Farkle wish them luck and head out together. Isadora asks Farkle how his therapy appointment went, and while his answer is unbothered, he definitely seems to be a little spacy this week. Isadora notices and considers asking him about it, but opts not to press further. They’ve got enough going on right now.

**INT. GARDNER HOME - ROSIE’S BEDROOM - NIGHT**

ROSIE GARDNER is huddled up in her bedroom, begrudgingly working on homework. She’s got Niall Horan playing, and the volume is turned up loud. It takes multiple knocks on her door before Rosie hears, shouting over the noise.

> **Rosie:** Go away! I’m busy.  
> 
> 
> **Charlie, from the hall:** It’s me. Can we talk for a minute?

Rosie sighs, but gets up. She opens the door and spins back around to drop back into her seat at her desk, not bothering to greet him. But she let him in, which is more than anyone else has managed this evening.

Charlie blinks as the pop music assaults his ears. He gently closes the door behind him, raising his voice over Niall.

> **Charlie:** Think you could turn Niall down for a second?
> 
> **Rosie:** Huh?
> 
> **Charlie:** Turn your boyfriend down so we can actually hear each other!
> 
> **Rosie:** Ugh. You’re so not funny.

And yet, she relents and lowers the volume. Charlie makes a show of shaking off the ringing in his ears, knocking his ear slightly.

> **Charlie:** Just checking for significant damage. Need industrial strength noise-cancelling headphones to come in here. Like they wear when they guide airplanes onto the runway.
> 
> **Rosie:** You are so annoying. Did you want something, or?

Charlie explains that Daisy texted him that afternoon about a fight she apparently had with mom. She seemed pretty concerned, so he just wanted to check in. Is everything okay? Rosie rolls her eyes.

> **Rosie:** It’s so whatever. Daisy is exaggerating.
> 
> **Charlie:** I don’t think Daisy is capable of exaggeration. We took all the drama genes, there wasn’t any left for her.
> 
> **Rosie:** Well, she is. Yeah, mom and I argued, but it’s like… it’s dumb, whatever. I don’t even care.
> 
> **Charlie:** You’re listening to your sad 1D playlist.
> 
> **Rosie:** I _said_ I don’t care, Charlie. And I can listen to whatever I want whenever I want.
> 
> **Charlie:** Okay, well, can you at least tell me what it was about? Or what’s --
> 
> **Rosie:** _Ugh_. It was nothing! Can you mind your own business and leave me alone? I’m trying to work.

Yikes. Rosie has always had a little bit of early teen venom in her, but this feels like more than that. Charlie doesn’t want to just let it drop, but it’s more than obvious she will not be having any productive conversations right now.

> **Charlie:** Okay. I’m only -- if you want to talk about anything, you know you can tell me. I’m here to listen. _[ a beat ]_ Okay?
> 
> **Rosie:** _[ not bothering to look at him ]_ Okay. Whatever. Thanks.

She turns Niall back up, effectively ending the talk. Charlie hangs around for a moment longer, words he wants to say on the tip of his tongue, but for now there’s nothing to be done. He reluctantly retreats, the ghost of the past looming over him.

**INT. MINKUS HOME - FARKLE’S BEDROOM - NIGHT**

Farkle, Maya and Isadora are spread out around Farkle’s bedroom as they brainstorm ideas for fundraising. Maya paces around, occasionally picking up little trinkets and inspecting them before putting them back down in the wrong place. Isadora, meanwhile, is laying down on Farkle’s bed on her back, her head hanging upside down off the side. Farkle has gathered a blanket around him as he sits at the other end of the bed. 

> **Maya:** You need to add some meat to that stick of a body, Farkle. You can’t keep living like an orphan who’s freezing to death on the streets of Victorian London. 
> 
> **Farkle:** It’s not my fault I have a fast metabolism. You’re just jealous. 
> 
> **Maya:** Yes, I’m very jealous of the boy who looks like he’s dying of scurvy.

Isadora snorts in amusement, for which Farkle shoots a glare at her.

> **Maya:** Go get us some snacks, orphan boy. We’ll fatten you up Hansel and Gretel style.
> 
> **Farkle:** This is offensive to orphans everywhere, I hope you know. 
> 
> **Isadora:** As the only orphan here, I’m not offended. Maya, you may continue your bullying.

Maya grins, but Isadora frowns as she realizes what she said. Technically, she isn’t an orphan, if her father is out there alive... despite rolling his eyes, Farkle does get up to get snacks, blanket still tightly wrapped around him.

Once she and Maya are alone, Isadora sits up straight and turns towards her, lips pursed in thought as she considers what she wants to say. 

> **Isadora:** Do you know who your dad is?

Maya stops wandering around and looks at Isadora in surprise.

> **Maya:** Where’d that come from?
> 
> **Isadora:** I don’t know. Just wondering about the orphan thing, I guess.
> 
> **Maya:** Izzy, that was just a joke. And directed towards Farkle. All jeers are reserved for our darling beanpole -- I’m not stupid enough to drag you.
> 
> **Isadora:** Appreciated. _[ a beat ]_ I know nothing about my dad.
> 
> **Maya:** _[ with a shrug ]_ I know my dad’s name and some basic facts about him, like his job, but nothing else. 
> 
> **Isadora:** Have you ever considered getting in touch with him? What if he’s out there somewhere? Mine or yours.
> 
> **Maya:** When I was younger I thought about it… but he abandoned me, so what’s the point? If he wanted me in his life, I would be. He knows who I am and how to contact me, but he hasn’t. Why waste my precious time and energy dealing with him when I already have my mom? She’s all I need.

Isadora nods, considering this. Her father situation is quite different to Maya’s, so not all that helpful. Regardless, it’s something to think about. Maya is pensive, too, mind now occupied by thoughts of Katy. Isadora notices her shift in mood.

> **Isadora:** You miss her?
> 
> **Maya:** _[ with a theatrical sigh ]_ Always. _[ then, a bittersweet smile ]_ It’s okay, every artist has to have their tragic backstory. It’s good. Gives me personal agony to work through.
> 
> **Isadora:** … well, actually --

Before she can say anything further, Farkle returns with an armful of snacks. He tosses them at Maya and Isadora.

> **Farkle:** Here you go, little piggies. Oink oink.
> 
> **Maya:** You can’t say that to us, we’re women.
> 
> **Isadora:** We could have you cancelled for that.
> 
> **Maya:** Besides, as the only poor one present, I reserve all rights to the word pig. _[ eyeing them ]_ Capitalist swine…
> 
> **Farkle:** Yeah, speaking of lack of funding...

The conversation moves on, back to fundraising, but Maya gets out her phone to send Katy a quick message letting her know that she misses her.

* * *

**INT. AAA - ATRIUM - DAY**

**Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Boogie Shoes” as performed by Glee Cast || Performed by Asher Garcia & Dylan Orlando**

Kicking off the first official performance for the ‘70s theme, Asher launches us into number with an impressive opening note. He starts at the top of the stairs in the atrium, starting down the steps while singing towards Dylan, who’s waiting down below. When he sings “ _boy,_ _to be with you is my favorite thing,_ ” Dylan playfully points to himself and beams. They’re both dressed in modern-day approximations of disco garb -- colorful dress shirts, glossy vests with matching flare pants, funky patterned ascots.

And they’re setting the standard for what performances will be like without the usual stage of the auditorium. Their chosen location is the atrium, mostly empty as it’s during class hours, the rest of the A class scattered around the space to watch and provide back-up vocals (as well as their usual reactions and applause). Zay is particularly torn, clearly flipping between jealousy that he can’t be dancing and basically vibrating with the infectious groove.

In the case of Dylan and Asher, there is plenty to cheer for. They’re simply undeniably a joy to watch, especially with each other, and Dylan was right when he said disco is for the gays. They’ve got the night fever, full of energy and charm as they dance together. On the “ _woo_!” during the bridge, Dylan lifts Asher in a funky little hop moment. And Asher’s vocal runs throughout are nothing to scoff at either.

It’s a smashing way to start the assignments off right!

* * *

**INT. AAA - PRACTICE ROOM - DAY**

As strong a showing as that little number was, the upbeat mood doesn’t last long. Stress dominates in the meeting between Maya, Yindra, Farkle, Jeff, and Isadora, who are deliberating on the current status of their showdown setlist. They’re attempting to analyze it and rework with the knowledge that Zay will not be able to participate, but it’s easier said than done.

Lack of focus doesn’t help matters. Farkle is noticeably zoned out, lost in his own head, and Maya has to snap at him to get him back at attention. This is not amateur hour! No time for spacing out, Farkle! He apologizes, but Isadora notices he still seems far away somehow.

The fervent discussion is immediately halted when Zay enters the studio, realizing they’ve all convened to work without him. He asks what gives.

> **Maya:** It’s not personal, Zayby. But considering your current situation...
> 
> **Zay:** I’m still choreographer. Even if I’m not performing, I should be included in meetings. Especially if you’re talking about altering the routine.
> 
> **Jeff:** We’re not.
> 
> **Farkle:** At least, not right now.
> 
> **Isadora, diplomatically:** We just know that not being able to participate is difficult for you, so Riley suggested… we figured it would be better not to like… force you to deal with it. Or rub it in your face.
> 
> **Maya:** Exactly. See? We’re doing this for you.

How sweet. But Zay isn’t moved. He grows defensive, nodding along but dripping with sarcasm.

> **Zay:** Great. Thanks. Well I guess if you need to drag me out of the recycling bin to comment on choreography, you all know how to reach me.

He storms out -- a bit unevenly on his boot -- leaving them awkwardly in his absence. Farkle clears his throat. The only who doesn’t seem uncomfortable is Maya, who shifts gears back to the matter at hand effortlessly. It’s just business, after all.

> **Maya:** So star power --

**INT. THRIFT SHOP - DAY**

Riley is searching the racks for an outfit for the ‘70s dance, Charlie in tow. Every now and then, she’ll find a vintage shirt that’s his size and hold it up against his chest just on instinct, always on the lookout for her friends even if they’re not looking themselves.

> **Riley:** It’s amazing how every color looks good on you. You should really consider branching out beyond neutrals and inoffensive shades of blue.

Tell us something we don’t know, Riles. Charlie brushes off her compliments, keeping his focus on the topic at hand while they shop. He’s seeking advice on how to handle arguing family members, since unfortunately, Riley has plenty of relevant experience with that. He’s had it in his family before with Bridgette, but he can’t remember much of it and honestly, one of the keys to their family dynamic is how most unpleasant things occur behind closed doors. Most of the time, they don’t even know when something is wrong with each other.

> **Riley:** Do you have any more details? I feel like context would help.
> 
> **Charlie:** Nope. I only heard about it through Daisy, and when I tried to talk to Rosie, she wouldn’t budge.

Riley contemplates and admits she’s hesitant to try and give advice when the context is so vague and wide open, but ultimately the most important thing she thinks he could do is to continue being there for Rosie. He told her he was, and that’s the best he can do under the circumstances. If he actually witnesses another argument for himself, then that’s a different story.

> **Riley:** But no matter what happens, try not to let yourself get caught in the middle of it. I mean, you should help where you can, but there’s nothing worse than trying to fix problems that aren’t yours and you can’t control. It’s between them, not you, and trying to mend it from the outside is only going to result in failure and frustration. You have to look out for your own well-being first. I wish someone had told me that _before_ my parents fell apart.

Very important advice. Charlie thanks her and expresses sympathy for her messy parental situation again, but she shrugs it off and moves past it. Instead she finds another cute ‘70s material button down in classic sky blue, enthusiastically lifting it up to measure against Charlie.

> **Riley:** Pair a blazer with this, and you’d be all set to boogie. Makes your eyes pop too… ugh, you’re so pretty it’s disgusting.
> 
> **Charlie:** I thought we were shopping for _you_ , not me. I’m not the one who gets to disco.
> 
> **Riley:** Well, that’s not necessarily true. The fundraiser _is_ open to everyone -- that’s the only way we’re going to make any profit, after all. And you know you’d be more than welcome.
> 
> **Charlie:** Yeah, maybe… with showdown so close and everything…
> 
> **Riley:** Charlie. _[ holding his gaze ]_ You’re family. Forget showdown, forget east and west side. As long as I’m around, you fit. And I know for sure I’m not the only one who feels that way. Got it? Can you dig it?
> 
> **Charlie, grateful:** I can dig it.
> 
> **Riley:** Righteous. I’m serious though, what you should dig is this shirt.

As Riley shifts back to searching for her own look, they jump to chatting about college applications. Charlie asks how hers are going after she explains Lucas’s poorly concealed stress about them, and she claims they’re going fine.

> **Riley:** I’m a pretty textbook candidate, all things considered, and my poor tragic backstory of being bullied out of school and divorced parents sure makes for great personal essay fodder.
> 
> **Charlie:** Kind of weird how they teach us to exploit our own trauma…
> 
> **Riley:** I’m definitely applying to Barnard, and I’ve decided I’m going to throw my hat in the ring for Tisch even though it’s basically the longest shot there is. Add in a handful of second choice picks and you get the idea. But honestly, I’m not all that pressed about it right now. I feel like it’s going to be way harder when acceptances and rejections come through and it’s all… real. I can throw any application out there I want and I don’t have to do anything about it. When I actually know what my options are… then it’ll be real. You know? When I actually have to decide what path I want to take. Because right now, I feel like I have no idea what I want that to be.

Charlie nods, agreeing wholeheartedly. He definitely knows the feeling of not having any idea what he wants the future to be… as the low hum of an unfamiliar instrument floats in…

* * *

**INT. AAA - BLACK BOX THEATER - DAY**

**Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Amazing Grace” as performed by The Military Band of the Royal Scots Dragoon Guards || Performed by Dave Williams**

In what is probably the weirdest performance _AMBITION_ has seen to date, Dave stands alone in front of the classroom and goes to town on the _bagpipes_. Yes, apparently, Dave Williams can play the bagpipes (though whether he plays them _well_ is a whole other story). And he gives it his all on this immensely famous tune, bewildering his peers and rendering them speechless.

That being said, while they can’t find any words, that doesn’t stop the A class from reacting. The expressions range from confused to stunned to struggling to keep it together. Maya stares in disbelief and then scrunches her face, looking around to see if anyone else is seeing this. Zay and Nigel are on the verge of tears from stifling their laughter; Yogi is misty-eyed from sheer emotion at his best friend’s… powerful performance. Nate mouths trying to sing along to the screechy tones with an absolutely delighted grin, while Dylan emulates the patriotic vibe by standing and giving a salute. Asher shakes his head from next to him, also hiding laughter behind his hand.

* * *

When Dave finally concludes, releasing a big exhale, the room is filled with silence for a long moment. Yogi starts the applause that the others uncertainly mimic, until Isadora finally, bluntly breaks the silence.

> **Isadora:** Okay, I’m just going to say it -- what the _hell_ , Dave?
> 
> **Dave:** What? Is something wrong?
> 
> **Sarah:** Where the hell did this come from? Are you seriously damaged?
> 
> **Yindra:** Forget that. I’m dying to know when you learned to play the _bagpipes_. And why have you deprived us of it for so long?
> 
> **Farkle:** The assignment is ‘70s music. How did you end up on “Amazing Grace?”
> 
> **Dave, baffled:** I don’t get what the big deal is. I found the song on a ‘70s playlist on Spotify, I can show you. And I looked it up -- the fig Newton dude wrote the song in 1779.
> 
> **Clarissa:** _Fig newton_ \--
> 
> **Zay:** _[ at his wits end trying not to laugh ]_ I can’t. I can’t --
> 
> **Dave:** 1779! So it’s from the ‘70s.
> 
> **All, in unison:** _1970s_ , Dave!
> 
> **Dave:** … _WHAT?!_

The class descends into hysterics. Harper attempts to thank Dave for an… interesting performance, if nothing else.

> **Harley:** I found it quite spirited. Very much enjoyed.

Dave huffs, marching back to his desk. He drops his bagpipes on the desktop --

**EXT. AAA - REAR PARKING LOT - DAY**

Which becomes a soapy sponge landing with a splat on the hood of a car, Haley working to scrub it clean. A few more quick shots help establish the setting -- Jeff and Darby untangling hoses; Riley and Chai filling up buckets of water; Asher ringing out a washcloth as far away from his body as he can stretch it, mildly disgusted.

Yes, Maya’s new fundraising scheme is in full swing -- a car wash! Cars are lining up for the A class to give a shining clean-up. Considering they threw the concept together in just a couple of days, it’s really not a shabby showing. Maya is praising her own quick thinking by the pay table, where they’re also selling baked goods. Zay is manning the cash box, since he can’t do much else.

> **Maya:** I swear, sometimes my own mind amazes me. Never lets me down. And you can’t go wrong with a good old-fashioned classic.
> 
> **Zay:** Yeah, except car washes are usually in the summer. Not the dregs of autumn when we’re all going to get hypothermia.
> 
> **Maya:** It’s actually unseasonably warm today. And that’s the brilliance of it. Who else is doing a car wash in this weather economy? No competition, big bucks.

At least the weather _is_ nice. With them out in their cotton shorts and tees to do all this work, Zay’s right to have reservations. But the sun is out, and the income has been steady thus far. Nate finishes off drying a car with Dylan, who has his hair pushed back with a tie-dye bandana.

> **Nate:** You know, we should all just wet our shirts. _That_ will get the girls and gays to come running.
> 
> **Maya:** _[ into her bullhorn ]_ Don’t accelerate the hypothermia, Martinez. Keep it classy.
> 
> **Nate:** You’re turning down a million-dollar idea!

Maya waves him off, gesturing that he get back to work. And they all put it together real fast when another customer pulls up at the end of the line, EVELYN RAND emerging from her nice SUV and coming over to greet them. She commends them for their efficient set up.

> **Maya:** That’s all thanks to me, Maya Penelope Hart. Vice President and overall go-getter. I’m the one that makes things happen.
> 
> **Evelyn:** And modest as they come, too.

Evelyn happily accepts Maya’s handshake, but she tosses a wink to Zay and Clarissa working the bake sale table. She claims she’s eager to help the cause, and she’s sure they’ll do an excellent job with her car. While she waits, she’s hoping to have a brief chat with Jack, so can she just leave her keys with them? She trusts them to move her vehicle twenty feet when it’s her turn.

> **Maya:** Of course. We here in the A class pride ourselves on our care and attention. Your vehicle is safe with us.

Zay snorts, turning it into a cough. Evelyn hands over her keys pleasantly, waving to the rest of the kids working as she heads into the building. Maya spins the key ring on her finger for a moment, contemplating.

> **Maya:** Can’t afford to screw this up. Gonna need someone extremely anal and annoyingly cautious to handle this one. _[ into the bullhorn ]_ Garcia! Get your persnickety nonexistent ass over here!

Nigel arrives at that moment with a takeout bag in his hands. He tries to weave through the cars and avoid drill sergeant Maya as he heads towards the back entrance to the school, but unfortunately he’s not slick enough.

> **Maya:** Chey! What do you think you’re doing? Cars are over here.
> 
> **Nigel:** Oh. Yes. Well, Jade’s holed up in the costume loft with all the projects she’s finishing…
> 
> **Maya, unmoved:** Uh huh.
> 
> **Nigel:** And I know she isn’t great about eating when she’s under this much stress, so I brought her some food to eat while she works. And I thought I’d go… give it to her… _[ quickly ]_ okay, check you later.

He turns and speeds towards the entrance, making his swift escape. Riley saunters over to join them at the cash table, tilting her head fondly.

> **Riley:** That’s so sweet.
> 
> **Maya:** Meh. A convenient excuse.
> 
> **Zay:** And how are you one to talk, Maya? You realize standing around shouting orders at everyone isn’t work.
> 
> **Riley:** Come on, Madam Vice President. Time to put in a little elbow grease.

Zay raises his eyebrows, accenting Riley’s challenge. Pride in jeopardy, Maya sniffs and relinquishes her bullhorn, placing it on the table. She spins and flips her ponytail over her shoulder, marching over to contribute to the cause. Riley and Zay exchange amused looks, while the boombox blasting the iconic opening hand claps takes over the soundscape...

* * *

**Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Car Wash” as performed by Rose Royce || Performed by Maya Hart (feat. AAA Seniors)**

You all knew it was coming. The moment we started scrubbing those fenders, you should’ve seen it coming. Maya leads the A class in a funky rendition of the disco classic, swaying her hips and swinging her ponytail as they put in the hard work (though, somehow, Maya still manages to avoid most of the heavy lifting). She handles most of the verses, though Yindra also takes some of the spotlight with vocal runs. Nate perfects his slutdrop as he cleans tires.

In the midst of the grooving, the business is bumping. Interspersed amongst the performing we see Clarissa and Dylan charming patrons at the bake sale table, money changing hands, and Zay dutifully keeping track of everything as he mans the pay station.

On the last chorus, Maya has made her way onto a roof of one of the cars, Yindra, Haley, and Darby emulating her on the other cars they’re working on. The A class does some rad synced choreography to take the number home, Maya sliding down the front windshield and kicking up her leg before Farkle makes the finishing swipe of a washcloth across the hood.

_Car wash!_ Zay deposits another payment into the cashbox, snapping it closed with a flourish.

* * *

Evelyn’s car is now closer to the front of the pack, and more business is still coming. Charlie makes his way over from the parking lot, waving to Riley as he makes his way over to the tables. Clarissa and Dylan greet him cheerfully, Riley and Maya jogging over from the line of cars. Zay doesn’t say anything, but offers a hesitant smile, which is better than nothing. Charlie mirrors it.

Clarissa comes out from behind the table to give him a hug, but warns him not to let Haley see him -- she’s soaked and will probably get him all damp. Charlie claims he didn’t plan to stay long, he just wanted to come by and see how things were going, as well drop off some baked goods they could sell that he and his sisters made. Dylan takes them happily. Maya asks where his car is and what kind of wash he wants, which Charlie awkwardly laughs off.

> **Charlie:** I wouldn’t make you guys do that. But I can make a contribution --
> 
> **Maya:** Please, what do you think this is, a pity party? We don’t accept charity.
> 
> **Zay:** Yes we do.
> 
> **Clarissa:** We’ll take all the charity you’ve got.
> 
> **Maya:** This is a business, and we provide a service. So put your boring little sedan in line and turn your patronization into profit.
> 
> **Riley:** Maya, if he doesn’t want --
> 
> **Charlie:** You know what? Okay. _[ raising his hands in surrender ]_ I’ll take whatever the easiest job is. Meet in the middle.

Fair enough. Maya relents, going back to shouting orders at others. Zay shows Charlie what their pricing options are, and though Charlie is going for the cheapest one, he overpays anyway.

> **Charlie:** What Maya doesn’t know won’t hurt her.
> 
> **Zay:** Yeah, and it’ll probably save us.

They exchange something close to a conspiratorial wink. Riley senses that they’re actually communicating without imminent disaster, so she comes over to join them. Charlie asks how business is going -- it seems to be moving pretty swiftly. Riley is optimistic, claiming that between this and the dance -- which is garnering a lot of buzz on social media -- they may just cover their expenses yet. At mention of the dance, Riley makes a quip about how Charlie should’ve bought that shirt at the thrift shop to wear, which catches Zay’s attention.

> **Zay:** You’re coming?
> 
> **Charlie:** Oh, no. No, I wasn’t, um… I hadn’t really thought about it.
> 
> **Zay:** Oh.
> 
> **Charlie, shyly:** … would it be okay if I did?

Zay meets his eyes, uncharacteristically timid. He doesn’t know what to say, because he honestly doesn’t know how he feels about the possibility. Things aren’t as tense as they were before, and they’ve managed to break some of the ice that’s frozen them in place, but it’s far from thawed. He doesn’t know if he wants it to be or not. It’s all confusing, and being put on the spot proves just how much.

He’s spared from answering when Isadora pipes up from the curb.

> **Isadora:** Oh, fuck no.

Charlie jumps, turning to search for the problem. Zay leans around him to look too. The issue is not hard to identify.

The Haverford boys. A whole bunch of them, rolling up in their classy cars, totally filling up the back end of the car wash line. Billy honks obnoxiously in his, waving to the washers working further down the row.

Brandon hops out of his car, the rest of the boys following suit. He leads the saunter over to the tables, where Maya, Farkle, and Isadora rush to head them off. Charlie stares as they approach, obviously mortified that they’re here; Zay frowns, glancing at him suspiciously.

> **Maya:** What the hell do you think you’re doing? You’re blocking the line.
> 
> **Dweezil:** _Blocking_? Is that any way to speak to a customer?
> 
> **Isadora:** One we’re about to kick the hell out, yeah.

The congregation bristles, but Brandon holds up his hands -- both out of innocence and to signal his crew to halt. He remains smooth and unbothered as ever, calmly stating that they’re simply here to support the cause.

> **Brandon:** It’s the least we could do, showing up for the less fortunate. We want showdown to be a fair fight, don’t we?
> 
> **Maya:** Oh, if that’s what you’re looking for, we can give you a fight.
> 
> _[ Brandon raises his eyebrows, clearly amused by Maya’s sharp spunk. ]_
> 
> **Farkle:** How did you all even hear about this?
> 
> **Brandon:** Why, I would think that’s obvious. Charles told us.
> 
> _[ Many eyes throw to Charlie at once. He swallows, dipping his head. ]_
> 
> **Brandon:** Well, technically, he told Evan, but I don’t see why he didn’t just share it with the boys. Evan was more than happy to pass the message along, though, and we all thought it was just a swell idea. Quaint, really.
> 
> **Billy:** Yeah, where’s the lemonade stand? You should jump on that hot market next.

But belittlement aside, they really are here to get their cars washed. That’s all. The A class can take it or leave it, but if they choose to turn away willing customers then that’s their prerogative.

Well… business is business. Maya forces a smile, keeping her diva daggers locked on Brandon as she instructs Isadora and Farkle to go start filling the buckets. Brandon holds her glare, evenly matched with his cool, subtle smirk.

**INT. AAA - JACK’S OFFICE - DAY**

Jack is enjoying a catch-up with Angela over coffee, in generally good spirits all things considered. As he says, it’s nice to take a moment to forget all of the stress and just chat with a good friend. Angela is touched, placing her hand on her chest. She claims if her visit will be good for anything then, that’s a great reason.

The two of them get on the topic of her pregnancy, and how she’s feeling about impending motherhood. She confides that Shawn is way more nervous about it than she is, but ultimately she feels okay about it. Pregnancy isn’t the most fun experience in the world, but she has always thought that a family would be part of her future. Considering she’s not getting any younger, it feels like the right time.

She asks if Jack ever thought about having kids, and he grows a bit more somber. It’s not that he hasn’t thought about it… and to be honest, he figured if he _did_ he’d beat Shawn to it, but clearly that wasn’t in his cards. And now here he is, coming off a failed serious relationship, already in his 40s…

> **Angela:** It’s never too late, Jack. If it’s something you really want. I mean, hell, look at Eric! He skipped all the hard stuff, too.
> 
> **Jack:** I guess that is one way to look at Isadora’s tragic loss…
> 
> **Angela:** I’m just saying, never say never. You’re a great mentor, responsible and fair, and you care. You care a lot. If you chose to try, whether by yourself or with a partner, I think you’d be a great dad.

Maybe… it all just feels so out of the realm of possibility. Besides, he argues, he basically has 200 kids at any given time to take care of. It’s not the same, no, but he watches out for the Adams students as seriously as he would his own. And you know, sometimes…

> **Jack:** Every once in a while, it kind of feels like they are.

It’s not hard to guess who he’s thinking about. Angela starts to question him further, thinking this is probably a meaningful discussion to have, but they’re interrupted by Evelyn knocking briskly on the door. She greets both of them cheerfully.

> **Evelyn:** So nice to see you again, Angela! I do hope I’m not intruding on anything important -- I meant to come sooner, but I got caught up in a riveting chat with Mister Keiner. 
> 
> **Jack:** No, of course not.
> 
> **Angela:** In fact, I was just getting ready to head out, so I will get out of your hair.
> 
> **Jack:** I just wasn’t expecting you.
> 
> **Evelyn:** No need to rush, Angela. _[ to Jack ]_ I’m just here to participate in that splendid car wash you’ve got out back. They’ve got a great little operation going, I have to say. And that Maya Hart -- talk about a firecracker.
> 
> **Jack:** Trust us, we’re quite familiar with her spark.

Angela bids both of them goodbye, promising Jack she’ll see him later. Once they’re alone, Evelyn commends Jack on inspiring his students to find creative ways to fund their financial endeavors. Especially given how their original proposal for the scholarships was voted down at the school board. In her opinion, she was hoping they’d at least contribute a portion -- she thought it was a nifty idea.

> **Jack:** Yes, they weren’t thrilled to hear the decision either.
> 
> **Evelyn:** It’s disappointing, although hardly surprising considering the way Jefferson campaigned behind closed doors. He’s got a fairly influential stake in the voting bloc, unfortunately.
> 
> **Jack:** What? What do you mean?
> 
> **Evelyn:** Oh, Jack, I thought you already knew. It was an extremely close vote on the board to provide funding, but Jefferson tipped the scales against it. He and Yancy basically talked it down for days with colleagues before the actual tally.

Um, no, Jack did _not_ know about that, and it obviously pisses him off. He’s speechless, trying to process the blatant partisan maneuvers being played against them within the inner workings of the board. Especially from someone who is now working within the walls of AAA. He knew Yancy didn’t like him, but this…

**EXT. AAA - REAR PARKING LOT - DAY**

The Haverford boys are loitering while they wait for the A class to finish cleaning their cars, showing how completely unbothered they are to hang around and watch their competitors sweat. Charlie is also hovering to nervously keep an eye on things, staying with Clarissa at the baked goods table and nibbling on a sugar cookie.

From where he’s scrubbing Dweezil’s windshield dry, Nate glares at them derisively.

> **Nate:** Rich pricks. I should smash this damn window…
> 
> **Yogi:** Easy, bulldog.
> 
> **Dave:** Just smile and wash, boys. Smile and wash.

Thankfully, they’re efficient, and it doesn’t take them long to grit their teeth through the work. Maya slaps her washcloth against Brandon’s hood, declaring it finished, then marches her way back over to where he’s slouched against a lamp pole near the pay table.

> **Maya:** Alright, knock-off Warblers, your cars are done.
> 
> **Evan:** Warblers?
> 
> **Dweezil:** From _Glee_.
> 
> **Billy:** Ha! She thinks we watched _Glee_.

Bottom line is, their business here is done, so they can roll their asses out. Maya essentially shoos them, but Zay pipes up from the pay table.

> **Zay:** Um, they can’t go yet. They’ve still got a tab to settle.
> 
> **Maya:** They didn’t pay upfront?
> 
> **Billy:** Well, couldn’t very well do that. Why would we pay you before we get any proof that you’re going to do a good job? It’s simply smart shopping.
> 
> **Clarissa:** Well, the job is done now. So you can pay up.
> 
> **Brandon:** Ooh… see, I think there might’ve been a misunderstanding here.

Charlie tenses, sensing impending doom. He steps out from behind the table in case he needs to mediate, just as Isadora and Farkle march back over with their buckets and rags to see what the hold up is. They’ve got other potential customers waiting.

> **Brandon:** Another smart business practice is to agree on the terms and conditions before you make a deal. Now, we always knew our payment was going to be contingent on the quality of the work. Sure, Babineaux here laid out the pricing for us, but we didn’t get anything in writing. You didn’t get our John Hancocks signing off on it.
> 
> **Zay:** You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.
> 
> **Charlie, nervously:** Come on, guys --
> 
> **Maya:** So you mean to tell me that we just spent the better part of an hour scrubbing your ungrateful little shits until they shined, and blocking other well-intentioned customers from coming in the meantime, only for you to _stiff_ us at checkout?
> 
> **Dweezil:** At least we made you look busy.
> 
> **Billy:** Yeah, consider it practice. We know you could use all of that you can get.
> 
> **Brandon:** _[ with a shrug ]_ Should’ve gotten it in writing.
> 
> **Isadora:** Yeah? Well how about you fucking get _this_ \--

She and Farkle snap first, lifting their buckets and sloshing them directly at Brandon. It catches him off-guard, totally dousing him in sudsy water.

> **Charlie:** Oh no.
> 
> **Riley, from the curb:** Oh no.
> 
> **Billy:** Oh, _hell_ no!

Hit the queen bee, feel the sting of the workers! The Havies immediately fire back, grabbing whatever they can get their hands on -- hoses, abandoned buckets -- and lobbing it back at Isadora and Farkle.

And with that, it’s a full-on brawl. Water and soap flying in every direction, the other Havies and Adams seniors launching into the battle without hesitation. Maya shrieks as she’s soaked, shouting for her classmates to take the Havies out. Zay salvages the cash box and dives under the table, taking cover.

**INT. AAA - JACK’S OFFICE - DAY**

Jack is still searching for what to say in response to the bombshell information Evelyn dropped, but Harley leaps in the doorway and gets both their attention.

> **Harley:** Major problem at the car wash. It’s completely devolved.

Jack exchanges a quick look with Evelyn, then jumps up from his chair.

**EXT. AAA - REAR PARKING LOT - DAY**

Jack and Harley emerge as the water fight is in full swing, and basically everyone is dripping in soap water. Jack takes control and marches into the fray, stepping into authoritarian mode and demanding that all of the nonsense cease. The Adams students drop their weapons immediately, not daring to get even a drop on their principal.

Though he doesn’t command the same respect with the Haverford boys, they don’t push it any further. They got what they came for, managing to derail the car wash and pull a fast one on the A class. They cackle with laughter as they sprint back to their cars, piling inside in record time and peeling out of the parking lot.

Brandon’s car is one of the last to leave, catching the eye of Maya, Zay, and Charlie through the passenger window. He smirks and tosses a wink in their direction, but it’s impossible to say who it was meant for. Maybe all of them.

None of them look especially pleased either way. Maya shoots a death glare at Charlie, even though he arguably got the worst of it, completely drenched from head to toe. If he _was_ in on the whole thing, he looks pretty miserable about it.

* * *

**_Break 1._ **

* * *

**INT. ERIC’S APARTMENT - ISADORA’S BEDROOM - DAY**

Now in fresh, comfy clothes and bare faces, Riley, Isadora and Maya lounge around in Isa’s bedroom. Maya’s hair is up in a towel wrap, while Riley’s is down and in the process of drying, and Isadora’s is pulled back into a messy bun. Isadora is also wearing her glasses rather than usual contacts. With a stretch, Maya hops from the bed.

> **Maya:** I never want to work like that ever again. I’m exhausted, in pain, and _starving_. Is this Hell?
> 
> **Riley:** You truly weren’t built for working class, were you?

Tell her about it! Maya disappears to raid Eric’s fridge, leaving Riley and Isadora free from her complaints. Isadora uses the opportunity to pick Riley’s brain. 

> **Isadora:** What do you think our chances are in the showdown? Full disclosure. 
> 
> **Riley:** Full disclosure? Not great. _[ with a sigh ]_ But we could still pull through. If we work hard enough, and come together to --
> 
> **Isadora:** I don’t need the full spiel, but thanks. I know how stressed Lucas and Maya are about it, and I’m considering -- _considering_ is the key word here -- offering to perform. You know, if it would help.

Riley’s face lights up, but upon seeing Isadora’s level glare, tries to suppress her smile. She fails. 

> **Isadora:** Don’t look at me. Forget I said anything. 
> 
> **Riley:** Aw, come on. I’m happy you’re thinking about it yourself instead of, like, being peer pressured by Maya or something. 
> 
> **Isadora:** She’s very nearly at her breaking point, I can tell. Every day her will to just let me be is deteriorating bit by bit. 
> 
> **Riley:** I think… not to get too Uncle Eric here, but I feel like because you keep thinking of performing as doing it in front of an audience, like being judged, it’s holding you back. You should just do it for the joy of it. Why were you drawn to performing in the first place? 
> 
> **Isadora, reluctantly:** … because it was fun...
> 
> **Riley:** Exactly! Because it’s fun. You have to have _fun_ with it.

In fact… Riley brightens with an idea, reaching for her phone and searching for a song.

* * *

**Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Lady Marmalade” as performed by LaBelle || Performed by Riley Matthews, Maya Hart & Isadora De La Cruz**

_[ Lyrics specific to characters -- follow along[here](https://docs.google.com/document/d/17bkEFOJf5lGe3wsLpZUyzPhTZnfCIl9UZo3Lkuk25xM/edit?usp=sharing)! ]_

As the bass and keys begin, Riley stands up on Isadora’s bed, pulling her up with her. Riley sings the initial _“hey sister, go sister”_ to Isadora, who stands awkwardly in the middle of the bed, not looking all that impressed.

In the first verse, Maya walks into the room with her haul from the kitchen. Her mouth opens when she sees Riley singing. 

> **Maya:** Are we doing this? Okay, we’re doing this.

She drops the snacks without a care, jumping onto the bed to join Riley -- just in time for the chorus. They move around Isadora as they belt out iconic vocals, trying to get her in the groove.

Maya takes on the second verse with Riley on the backing vocals. Although Isadora tries to remain stoic, she can’t help but begin to vibe with them. By the end of the next chorus, she’s singing along, too. In French, no less! But maybe let’s not look up the lyric translation…

In the instrumental break, the three girls get down from the bed and strut forwards towards the door. They pass through it one at a time, puffs of makeup and glitter blowing around them in slow-mo as they do.

**INT. AAA - LECTURE HALL - DAY**

This time, the temporary performance space is the lecture hall, which is an inspired choice since it actually has a pseudo-stage and lighting capabilities.

When they emerge onto the small stage, they’re in full glam. Hair glossy, makeup glowing, and outfits iconique. They each wear a skintight jumpsuit along with oversized faux fur coats. Riley’s getup is a white jumpsuit and yellow coat, Isadora’s is a blue jumpsuit and pink coat, and Maya’s is a pink jumpsuit and white coat. They strut to the front of the stage, spotlights on them.

Isadora takes charge of the next verse, confidently singing and dancing with her friends by her side. Riley and Maya come in towards the end, before all three complete the rest of the song together. It’s glamorous, it’s sultry, it’s powerful. Foxy, ladies!

* * *

We fade out of the performance to see the rest of the class and Harper as they applaud. Although the girls don’t look quite as glam out of the performance-dreamscape, they look just as badass. Lucas and Farkle in particular seem stunned by the performance.

**INT. AAA - TECHNICIAN’S BOOTH - DAY**

Zay hands over the cash box from the car wash to Lucas.

> **Zay:** Despite the carnage, the most important thing survived.

And, in spite of the disastrous end, it seems like they made good for their work. They raked in a pretty penny for all the scrubbing and washing -- it’s far from all that they need, but it should make a sizable dent in the auditorium accident debt. And that’s not nothing.

Lucas thanks Zay for his help and for watching the money, getting up to put it in a safe place in the booth. He claims he can’t do it until Zay leaves, though, since there are certain things only he should know about the booth. Zay rolls his eyes but obliges, throwing in an offhand comment about how weird he is before slowly making his way out.

As he’s heading down the steps, he passes by Missy, who is casually making her way up into the booth. Like she goes up there all the time, like it’s no big deal. She even greets Zay as they pass, which he uncertainly returns. He frowns at her over his shoulder as she heads on up, obviously confused by her presence.

As confidently as she enters, Lucas evidently wasn’t expecting her either. He jumps when she addresses him, moving away from wherever he stashed the car wash cash. When he realizes it’s her, his posture grows even more defensive.

> **Lucas:** What are you doing in here?
> 
> **Missy:** Only what anyone would deem visiting this musty space worthy for. I’m looking for you.
> 
> **Lucas:** I don’t know if you missed the memo, but people don’t waltz in here whenever they want. No matter how privileged they are.

Missy laughs, allowing him the dig. Following their increasingly common rapport, back-and-forth that straddles the line between friendly fire and hostility depending on your lens. She maintains innocence as she waits for him to settle back in his usual chair, claiming she only wanted to discuss the current A class financial crisis.

> **Missy:** I heard your little car wash wasn’t half-bad. Congratulations are in order. Though I don’t believe I heard much about _you_ out there breaking a sweat to wash those vehicles...
> 
> **Lucas:** You can congratulate the rest of the class when you see them.
> 
> **Missy:** Shame. I’d think if we put you out there front and center, you might’ve garnered a greater profit.
> 
> **Lucas:** Please.
> 
> **Missy:** You shouldn’t undersell yourself, Lucas. It worked for Chubbies, did it not?

If her increased patronage is any indication, then technically, yes. But Lucas doesn’t seem keen to acknowledge that. She moves closer and hops onto the lighting booth table, crossing her glossy legs where they are in perfectly accessible view. In a place where Riley often sits. It just feels wrong. Lucas averts his gaze, looking down at the soundboard instead.

> **Missy:** Anyway, as cute as the fundraising effort is, I don’t exactly see the point.
> 
> **Lucas:** Well, for those of us not in the 1%, there’s this annoying everyday thing we have to do called “acquiring money.” I’m sure that’s probably confusing for you --
> 
> **Missy:** I _meant_ for Adams. Or for the A class, more specifically. I don’t see why you all should be out there sweating through manual labor… when you could just ask _me_ for the money.

Oh. Well that’s… an interesting proposition. Lucas is surprised she’s even offering it, enough to lift his head again to meet her eyes.

> **Lucas:** … it’s hundreds of dollars…
> 
> **Missy, coolly:** Drop in the bucket. _[ looking him over ]_ Surely _you_ would know that by now.

Lucas hesitates, contemplating. Missy observes him, watching for the chinks in his armor. Those rare moments when he’s not as aloof and disdainful as their banter leads her to believe.

> **Lucas:** I don’t see why you would help when it does nothing to benefit you.
> 
> **Missy:** Isn’t helping the class helping me in the end? _[ off his skeptical eyebrow raise ]_ And oh, they’ll find a way to pay us back somehow. Every debt gets paid eventually. Name on an auditorium seat, plaque outside the lecture hall. That’s the charity solution to everything, slapping your name on something. I’m sure daddy would love to have the Bradford name in gold somewhere in this heap considering the chilly reception Hunter gave us when all this started.

Missy found about a dozen unintentional trigger words to throw in that sentence to change Lucas’s tune. Whether the most credit can be given to the word “charity,” or invoking Jack in a negative light is debatable, but Lucas is suddenly even stonier than before. He clenches his jaw.

> **Missy, softer:** It’s not like you haven’t already accepted donations from the Bradford fortune… and that’s lightened the load, hasn’t it? Nothing wrong with that. _[ a beat ]_ And you and me… I wouldn’t call us _friends_ , but we certainly have… our own thing here. Don’t we? We… mean something. To one another.

Lucas drops his gaze again, cornered. The very insinuation that they have a _relationship_ in any capacity makes him uncomfortable… but then, it’s not wrong, is it? If he’s willingly taking her money, _knowingly_ , then that does symbolize some sort of association. He can’t in good conscience deny it, not when her money is a big chunk of the reason his future is even possible. And she could take all the pressure off them, off him, in an instant… no more fundraising… no more sweating over showdown… scholarships guaranteed…

But his instincts are stronger than that. It’s too good to be true. Everything comes with a cost, and while he might be willing to risk that here and there for his own feeble endeavors, he’s not going to tie his legacy and the rest of the class to it. He returns her eye contact, resolute.

> **Lucas:** If your family wants to donate to the cause, then by all means do. But I’m not asking you for anything. I don’t beg.

Well said and well meant! For what it’s worth, Missy doesn’t seem put off by the rejection. If anything, she seems impressed by his stubborn resistance, even if she knows damn well it’s full of contradictions. Impressed, and definitely stirred by that same fire that captivated her the first time they met during the school board trial. The tension in the air makes that loud and clear.

> **Missy:** No, no you don’t, do you. All part of your… provocative charm.

Message received, it appears… some message, at least… Missy slips off the table and begins to make her exit, assuring Lucas that she understands his perspective. Some things are better kept quiet, and she gets his need to maintain appearances -- and his pride.

> **Missy:** It’s our little secret. And I get where we stand. _[ with a smirk ]_ I think we understand each other better than one might assume.

The mere notion makes Lucas a bit queasy, but he keeps his mouth shut. Missy bids him adieu and disappears down the steps, wishing the Slumdog President the best of luck with his continuing financial campaigning.

Even once she’s gone, Lucas can’t shake off the discomfort of her presence. He has to get up, walk it off, gathering his things and fleeing from the space -- one of the few he’s never felt the need to escape from before.

**EXT. HAVERFORD PREP - COURTYARD - DAY**

Charlie is having lunch with BRIDGETTE GARDNER, occupying their typical table in the grassy outdoor space. She listens attentively as he catches her up on all of the stuff with their sisters, Charlie clearly seeking counsel from the one person who has been on the other side of this potential falling out. Does she think he should be worried, based on her own experience?

> **Bridgette:** And you haven’t seen any of this for yourself?
> 
> **Charlie:** No, at least not yet. But I don’t think that means much -- I had no idea most of this stuff was going on with you until it was already way too late. When I first saw you having arguments with mom, it was volcano level.
> 
> **Bridgette:** To be fair, you were what, 14? Even younger than that when it all started. But true. Our family is really good at concealing the ugly, and then pretending it doesn’t exist when the moment has passed.
> 
> **Charlie:** And this is coming from Daisy. You know she wouldn’t make things up just for the hell of it.
> 
> **Bridgette:** Also true. She sure is an unaffected little freak. _[ a beat ]_ I say that with love. Every Gardner has to be fucked up one way or another.

Still, with so little firsthand information, it’s hard to say. She doesn’t think Charlie should tie himself in knots trying to problem-solve something he can’t see, but…

> **Bridgette:** Look out for Rosie if you can. You know, keep an eye out. If history is going to repeat itself, and she’s following in my forsaken footsteps… I don’t want her to go through that. She shouldn’t have to go through what I went through. Not that I’m not fine now --
> 
> **Charlie:** Right.
> 
> **Bridgette:** But she’s not tough like I am. And I mean that in the best way possible. Rosie… she’s sensitive. Sweet. Her heart is right there on her sleeve, even if she tries to act like she’s all grit. _[ softly ]_ Reminds me of another sibling I’ve got.

Charlie smiles, but underneath the kind words she’s confirming his concerns. If the stormy energy around Rosie does whip up into a hurricane, then it’s looking more and more likely to be an unavoidable disaster. History may just repeat itself -- and more brutally than before.

**INT. AAA - COSTUME LOFT - DAY**

Rosie isn’t the only one in a tempestuous mood. Jade is in full-on crunch mode as her deadlines loom ever closer, and even though she’s been basically holed up in the costume loft at all hours she still feels miles from the finish line. She’s skipping lunch to wrap up a couple of last-minute additions to another piece of her portfolio, using Asher as her mannequin. Currently, he’s sporting a rather fancy, outlandishly patterned and bold blouse over his maroon polo. It looks like it could be a ‘70s dance shirt, or the wardrobe of a funky, flamboyant villain, or perhaps an especially stylish swashbuckling pirate… but it’s a Jade Beamon original, so it looks fantastic.

If only the job of mannequin was as fun as the clothes he’s modeling. Asher is gritting his teeth so hard they might crack, cringing every time Jade threads her needle through a piece of it or sticks a pin somewhere. She’s an expert, a professional, but given her stress level she’s missed the mark more than once the last couple of days.

> **Jade, snapping:** If you didn’t wince every two seconds like a little baby, then maybe I would stick you less.
> 
> **Asher:** _[ through his teeth ]_ The two dozen pin prick battle scars I have beg to differ!

Nigel picks that moment to enter, catching the tail-end of their sharp exchange and clocking the vibes immediately. He hesitates by the door, not sure whether he should come in and interrupt anymore or not, but Jade spots him before he can duck out. She immediately loses some of her unpleasantness, straightening up and clearing her throat.

> **Jade:** Nigel.
> 
> **Nigel:** Um… hello. _[ holding up lunch ]_ I know you’re working through lunch again, so I just thought I’d bring something by.
> 
> **Jade:** Oh, that’s… that’s nice. You don’t have to keep doing that.
> 
> **Nigel:** It’s all good. I like being able to help. It’s the least I could do, make sure you eat.
> 
> **Asher:** Someone should.
> 
> **Jade:** I’m still holding pins, Asher…

As if that wasn’t signal enough, Nigel bravely ventures the question of how costuming is going this afternoon. Jade claims it’s all fine, and Asher repeats her comment in a tone that makes it very clear he doesn’t agree. Sensing that the best friends might benefit from a break from one another, Nigel offers to hang around and be her stand-in for a while.

> **Jade:** Really?
> 
> **Asher, hopeful:** Really?
> 
> **Nigel:** Sure. All I have to do is stand there and look pretty, right? Think I can manage that. You know, if I clear the costumer’s standards, of course.
> 
> **Jade:** No, no you -- of course. Of course you do. You’re more than -- obviously, you’re up to standard. I mean, above. I, um…

Asher can’t help but laugh, but he hides it behind a fake sneeze. Jade shoots him a glare, then states it would be preferable actually for him to take Asher’s place for now. It seems like Bird Bones agrees, hopping down from the step stool and carefully removing the fanciful top.

> **Asher:** It’s for the best anyway. I’m supposed to be helping Dylan proofread his college essays. I want to check mine one more time too -- Jade _says_ reading them over seven times is more than enough, but pot meet kettle.
> 
> **Nigel:** A Dylan Orlando personal essay, huh? I’d pay to see that.
> 
> **Asher:** I’m sure he’d let you read it for no charge. One of the applications he’s filling out had the prompt to “describe a work of art from the last century that surprised, inspired, or challenged you and in what way,” so he wrote a whole thesis statement on why Taylor Swift’s album _Lover_ is the most important contribution to art, culture, and society since the invention of music.
> 
> **Nigel:** Wow.
> 
> **Jade:** Of course he did.
> 
> **Asher:** I’ll be genuinely surprised if it’s not a video essay on his vlog in like four months. But you know what, no admissions officer can say he doesn’t have enthusiasm.

True that! Asher makes his grateful exit, handing the piece over to Nigel and wishing him luck. Jade giggles nervously once they’re alone, Nigel smiling and asking if he should just put the shirt on and stand where Asher was. She confirms, avoiding her gaze by digging through her sewing kit until he’s all set and ready to be pinned and needled.

> **Nigel:** I hope I’m doing your work justice.
> 
> **Jade:** You, um… it’s good. You’re good. Ha ha.

She nervously pushes some hair behind her ear, then steps closer to get back to work. If anything can overpower shyness, it’s the stress of an impending deadline upon which your entire future rests. Jade softly explains to Nigel what she’s doing as she does it, since he’s never been her model before, and reassures her that he’s not worried and she can do whatever.

> **Nigel:** I trust you, Jade. You are the expert, after all.

Jade glances up at him, processing the compliment. The declaration of trust. The fact that they’re standing so close, that if he just stepped down off the stool they’d be close enough to… it’s a lot. Sophomore year Jade would probably have ran and hid by now, if not passed out.

But this is the present, and Jade has work to do. So she swallows her butterflies and focuses on her needlework.

Quiet settles over them for a minute, then Nigel speaks again, barely above a whisper.

> **Nigel:** You’re incredible, you know that?
> 
> **Jade:** Huh?

Caught by surprise, Jade’s hand slips… and accidentally sticks Nigel with the needle. He winces and she immediately launches into apologies, retracting her hands to drop the needle and asking if he’s okay. He promises he’s fine, keeping her from spiraling over it by taking her hand so she can’t drift any further away in retreat.

> **Nigel:** Really, I’m good.
> 
> **Jade:** … so you were saying?
> 
> **Nigel:** Yeah. I just wanted you to know… I _hope_ you know how amazing you are. I know you’re super stressed about all this and what these schools and programs are going to think of you, but they’d be insane to reject you.
> 
> **Jade:** I don’t know if I’d go that far.
> 
> **Nigel:** I would. I mean, you’ve made basically every costume we’ve worn for the last three years -- which I know everyone keeps throwing back at you -- and they’re fantastic. Not just because they look good, which they always do, but they’re _durable_. No matter how gorgeous they look, they can withstand a lot. When we finish a production, they’re worn in, but it’s still as if they’re freshly stitched. _That’s_ impressive. Trust me, I’ve been in enough local Shakespeare productions to say so. One time a piece of my tunic fell off in the middle of the first act.

Jade laughs, charmed by the story and calmed enough by his gentle tone to actually breathe. Nigel smiles at her, fond.

> **Nigel:** You’re reliable. That’s the best thing a person can be, in my opinion. And you’re talented to the extreme, hard-working, humble… I mean, is there anything you can’t do?
> 
> **Jade:** _[ with a snort ]_ Socialize.

The word slips out, and Jade is instantly embarrassed by it. She hides her blush in digging to grab her needles again, going back to work as an excuse not to elaborate.

> **Nigel:** Seriously? You’ve never struck me as without company. With the techies --
> 
> **Jade:** Oh, yeah, that’s the height of engagement. Just me and a bunch of emotionally inept teenage boys plus Dora, getting up to the same old shenanigans. Every girl’s dream. _[ with a sigh ]_ Don’t get me wrong, I love them. Especially Asher, he’s my best friend. And I’m not saying I’m like, a recluse or anything, I have friends, I just… I don’t know. I don’t even know why I’m talking about this. Sorry.
> 
> **Nigel:** No worries. I don’t mind. But for what it’s worth, I don’t see you that way. Anyone would be lucky to have you as a friend. I know I am. _[ a beat ]_ Or like, any kind of relationship…

Jade coughs, not prepared for that. She giggles compulsively again, frantically brushing off the thought as she focuses intently on pinning a piece of the fabric into place.

> **Jade:** I haven’t… ha, I’m so busy, I… a _relationship_ … I don’t have the time to even…

Though she can’t form a coherent sentence, Nigel gets the message. _Not available right now._ And he admittedly looks a bit disappointed, but he puts his acting credit to use and swiftly covers with another smile.

> **Nigel:** Well, again. Anyone would be lucky. And in the meantime, I’m just happy to support you however I can. Even at risk of puncture wound.

Jade absorbs this, unable to hold back her shy smile. She murmurs a thank you, then hides by throwing all her attention to the task at hand.

But for Nigel, the only thing he can focus on is her. So incredible… and so close… as the easy bass line floats in…

* * *

**INT. AAA - LECTURE HALL - DAY**

**Song Cue ♫ ♪ “How Deep Is Your Love” as performed by Bee Gees || Performed by Nigel Chey (feat. Dylan Orlando)**

The lights are low and the set-up is simple, just Nigel on the stage with a microphone stand and sporting the finished product of one of Jade’s ‘70s costumes -- a glossy gold suit, styled like Saturday Night Fever, over a black silk shirt. He’s shimmering like a disco ball under the stage lights, reflecting the whimsical, dreamy quality of the number.

The only other person on the stage with him is Dylan, accompanying him on bass and providing back-up vocals. He’s dressed much simpler, dressed in black and wearing his custom-made Jade Beamon original suit jacket from junior prom. His hair is the ‘70s-ified element, swept up and combed back like John Travolta. While he happily lets Nigel hog the spotlight, he does take a moment in the performance to wink to Asher in the audience.

**INT. AAA - COSTUME LOFT - DAY**

Intercut with the performance, we check back in with Nigel and Jade in the loft, doing a metaphorical dance of their own around each other as Jade costumes. There’s something surprisingly amorous about the set-up when it’s paired with the ballad. Jade remains oblivious, studiously sewing away, but the romantic tension is more than apparent, in Nigel’s expression and the smooth delivery of his vocals as he looks at her.

_And you may not think I care for you  
When you know down inside that I really do…_

**INT. AAA - LECTURE HALL - DAY**

While she’s good at avoiding him while at work, Jade can’t keep her eyes off Nigel during the performance. Clarissa, Haley, and Asher cast knowing glances at her, but she doesn’t pay them any attention. In the back seats, Nate, Dave, and Jeff sway along to the beat playfully.

_Cause we're living in a world of fools  
Breaking us down when they all should let us be_

Ultimately, though, even if certain truths remain unsaid, what can’t be denied is an excellent performance. Nigel brings it home with grace, understated as always but, in this case, pretty swoonworthy.

_We belong to you and me…_

* * *

**INT. BABINEAUX HOME - ZAY’S BEDROOM - NIGHT**

Zay is on the phone with Riley, the latter walking him through all of the bulletins from that day’s showdown discussion. He listens eagerly, living vicariously, but it’s obvious he’s also frustrated that he’s being excluded. He reminds Riley that they can call on him at any time to brainstorm on choreography or reevaluate concepts, but she gently waves him off by insisting she doesn’t want to put any additional pressure on him.

> **Zay:** Well, to be honest, not being consulted kind of makes me feel more --
> 
> **Riley:** Oh, shoot, Maya’s here. She’s supposed to be meeting with Farkle after his therapist appointment this evening, so I’m sure she just has a bunch of notes she wants to Maya-splain to me first.
> 
> **Zay:** If she wants to get on speaker, then she could --
> 
> **Riley:** I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? And I’ll let you know if anything major happens. Love you!
> 
> **Zay:** But Riley --

She hangs up before he can get a word in, even a goodbye. He sighs and drops his phone on his bed, pulling his laptop back towards him. He has his applications webpage open, where he’s painstakingly attempting to piece together the final elements of his portfolio. It’s not in bad shape, but with the glooming reality of his booted foot and inability to make anything more, it doesn’t feel like enough. It feels like being trapped.

He grabs his phone again, obviously wanting to talk to someone about it. But he can’t talk to Riley -- he knows she’s busy. He can’t talk to Yindra. He can’t talk to Maya -- and nor would he want to, thank you very much.

Charlie…

He could talk to Charlie. _God_ , he wants to talk to Charlie. And they’ve opened up the lines of communication again, haven’t they? Couldn’t it be easy, like it was before? All he has to do is say something… but he doesn’t know what that would be. It’s still confusing and twisted up inside him. And whatever happened with Haverford at the car wash is admittedly suspicious, though it just doesn’t feel right to think Charlie would do something like that.

Confusing. Complicated. Stuck. He’s stuck, stuck, stuck.

**INT. THERAPIST’S OFFICE - NIGHT**

Farkle plops down onto Dr. Han’s couch, releasing a dramatic sigh and telling her there’s _much_ to discuss (as there usually is). He starts to rattle off about the showdown drama because of Zay’s injury and how he and Isadora dumped water on their greatest rival at the moment, but Dr. Han carefully interrupts. She explains that there’s actually something she wants to open this appointment with, something that she thinks it’s important to start exploring as soon as possible. Farkle is confused but intrigued, sitting upright and gesturing for her to go on.

She turns to her notes, pulling out a couple of prepared informational sheets and taking on a gentler, more professional tone. She explains that after their last few meetings, she thought a lot about some of the patterns Farkle had been mentioning in his recovery. She decided to follow her hunch and do a little more research, and she thinks she’s landed on what might be the root after conferring with his primary care physician.

> **Dr. Han:** It’s my belief that you show all the clear symptoms of bipolar disorder.

It’s like all the air gets sucked out of the room. Farkle freezes, staring at her, but words stop making sense. She continues to explain how common it is for it to be misdiagnosed as depression, how now they can focus on proper treatment for his actual affliction, how it’s just as manageable with the right approach, but it’s like she’s talking underwater. Everything feels hazy, static, like Farkle is suddenly a thousand miles away.

> **Farkle:** No. No, I -- I can’t be.
> 
> **Dr. Han:** I understand that an unexpected diagnosis can be intimidating. And bipolar disorder, like most mental conditions, is shrouded in a lot of misrepresentation and stigma. But with the right perspective --
> 
> **Farkle:** I’m not. I can’t… I have to go.

Farkle blankly gets to his feet, suddenly certain he has to get out of there. It’s like he’s underwater now too, like he can’t breathe. Dr. Han warns that he’s likely just having a strong reaction to the news, anxiety, but she assures him that the diagnosis does not change anything about him or his prospects. If anything, it will improve things, because now they can confront his reality with the right tools. And it will be safest for him to just relax here and process it during their session.

But no, Farkle can’t stay. He numbly repeats that he has to go, ignoring Dr. Han’s disagreement and stepping out of the office.

**INT. THERAPIST’S BUILDING - HALLWAY - NIGHT**

Farkle doesn’t stop until he’s fully out of her space, back in the endless office sprawl of a building like this. He waits a moment, dreading Dr. Han chasing after him and dragging him back in there, but she doesn’t come. He collapses back against the door, releasing a shaky exhale and screwing his eyes shut.

Bipolar. He’s bipolar.

A gentle piano begins to play, an iconic familiar riff while we stay close on Farkle’s face.

* * *

**Song Cue ♫ ♪ “All By Myself” as performed by Eric Carmen || Performed by Farkle Minkus & Zay Babineaux**

Farkle takes the first lines of this legendary ode to isolation, singing them softly as the camera slowly eases away from him. The further away we pull, the more his sense of smallness grows, dwarfed by the hallway that seems to stretch on forever.

_When I was young, I never needed anyone… those days are gone…_

**INT. BABINEAUX HOME - ZAY’S BEDROOM - NIGHT**

Zay pushes off his mattress and rises to his feet, going a bit too fast at first out of habit and nearly stumbling on his bad ankle. He cringes, falling back on the edge of the bed to right himself. He huffs and hides his head in his hands, easing into the next lines.

_Living alone, I think of all the friends I’ve known  
But when I dial the telephone, nobody’s home…_

**EXT. THERAPIST’S BUILDING - NIGHT**

Farkle emerges onto the steps of the building in the financial district just in time to launch into the chorus. He carries on singing as he begins to make his way home, weaving through the streets and other passersby as if he’s invisible. Although he’s clearly emotional, it’s evident the information hit him hard, because he’s not at all at his usual level of verve.

**INT. BABINEAUX HOME - ZAY’S BEDROOM - NIGHT**

Zay keeps it tamped down whenever it passes back to him as well, though his limitations are outside of his control. He spends his portion of the vocals at his window, leaning out to breath in the life and excitement of the city he loves that he feels so locked out of.

Whether within or without the city, for vastly different reasons, both Zay and Farkle are feeling the same ache.

**INT. MINKUS HOME - NIGHT**

Farkle makes it home in time for the piano solo, showing off his proficiency on the instrument lest we dared to forget. Then he and Zay harmonize on the final, showstopping chorus, delivering a whammy even when they’re not quite in top form.

**INT. BABINEAUX HOME - ZAY’S BEDROOM - NIGHT**

Zay rounds out the number, stepping away from his window and shutting it forlornly.

* * *

**INT. MINKUS HOME - FARKLE’S BEDROOM - NIGHT**

Maya is back to brainstorming in the Minkus home as promised, pacing in front of the moodboard they’ve been working off of for weeks. She’s avidly running through potential pitfalls to their showdown prospects, which seem to be piling up by the minute, while Farkle is seated on the edge of his bed. He’s stone-faced, truly lost in his own head now, and Maya doesn’t fail to notice. As she’s ticking off more items on their doomsday list, she halts and gives him an unimpressed glare.

> **Maya:** … and an inattentive diva. _[ snapping in his face ]_ Farkle! Earth to Farkle!
> 
> **Farkle:** What? Oh, sorry.
> 
> **Maya:** I swear, you have been exceptionally offbeat this week. Of all the times, too, naturally it would be our greatest time of crisis that your zany passion eludes us. Honestly, Farkle, where for art thou? Why have you abandoned me in our time of need?
> 
> **Farkle:** I’m bipolar.
> 
> **Maya:** Okay? And I’m a narcissist. Just because we use pretty words doesn’t change the state of the union, darling.
> 
> **Farkle, shaky:** No, like, I’m literally bipolar.

Maya pauses, actually looking at him. His tone convinces her that he’s not being cheeky, and his sallow expression drives it home. Her demeanor shifts instantly, dropping much of her diva arrogance.

> **Maya:** What?
> 
> **Farkle:** I’m bipolar. I don’t know how many more times I can say it.
> 
> **Maya:** I heard you, I just -- when? How?
> 
> **Farkle:** My whole life, presumably. How, ask God for me.
> 
> **Maya:** Well… well, like, what does that mean? Like, so you’re bipolar, well, what does that mean for --
> 
> **Farkle:** I don’t know. I don’t know, my psychiatrist just told me. I didn’t… I didn’t do a great job of listening to what came after that.

Wow. Silence reigns as Maya attempts to process this new information. Farkle speaks again, even more uncharacteristically timid than before.

> **Farkle:** I know this is bad timing. Just… with this, and everything at school, I don’t know how on top of it I can --
> 
> **Maya:** No, no, of course not. Shh. It’s fine. You don’t have to worry about all that. You need to focus on yourself. On this. Don’t worry about Triple A. I’ll handle it.
> 
> **Farkle:** But Maya --
> 
> **Maya:** I’ve got it. It’s okay.

She pats his shoulders reassuringly, then turns it into a hug. Farkle hesitates for a moment before returning the embrace, desperately leaning into the comfort. Maya remains stalwart for the both of them, features intense as her mind runs to problem-solve a million miles an hour. Based on the furrow of her brow, it seems she might already be onto something.

> **Maya:** I’m going to handle it.

**INT. ERIC’S APARTMENT - NIGHT**

Riley, Isadora and Eric sit around the dining table, chatting casually after finishing their meals. Eric looks between the two girls with a warm smile before offering to clear up. 

> **Riley:** I’ll help.

Riley gets up to help Eric clean away the plates, but Isadora places a hand on Riley’s arm to stop her. Riley gives her a questioning look. 

> **Isadora:** I actually… I have something I want to show you. In my room. [ to Eric ] If that’s okay? 
> 
> **Eric:** Of course, go ahead. I’m perfectly capable of filling up the dishwasher on my own.

Intrigued, Riley follows Isadora into her bedroom.

**INT. ERIC’S APARTMENT - ISADORA’S BEDROOM - NIGHT**

Isadora goes straight to her desk and opens up a notebook to reveal Valerie’s letter. She passes it to a confused Riley, who takes a moment to look over it. When she realizes what it is, she looks up at Isadora with wide eyes. 

> **Riley:** Is this…? 
> 
> **Isadora:** _[ with a nod ]_ A letter to my father. I found it in one of Val’s boxes. You’re the first person I’m telling so don’t… don’t tell Eric or anything. 
> 
> **Riley:** Oh, totally. Sure. _[ a beat as she scans through the pages ]_ Why aren’t you telling him, though? 
> 
> **Isadora:** I don’t really know how I feel about it yet.

Riley guides Isadora to her bed, where they both sit. She collects her thoughts. 

> **Riley:** Did you know anything about your dad before now? 
> 
> **Isadora:** No. I asked about him a few times, like ages ago, but Valerie always claimed she didn’t know who he was. I can’t tell if she was lying or not; I don’t even know when she wrote this. 
> 
> **Riley:** It seems like she didn’t really think about it until he wrote to her. And it definitely seems like he wants to be part of your life. _[ a beat ]_ Do _you_ want him in your life?
> 
> **Isadora:** I don’t know. I don’t even know what that would look like. My gut is screaming at me that it’ll end in disaster, like it always did with my mom, but at the same time… like, I’ve gotten by fine without a dad until now, but it does feel there’s a part of me missing. What if it’s him?

It’s clear that she’s been thinking it over a lot. Riley admits that she isn’t sure what she could say to help considering her complete lack of experience in this department, but suggests again that she should talk to Eric. 

> **Isadora:** I’m scared to. 
> 
> **Riley:** What? Why?
> 
> **Isadora:** I don’t want him to think that he’s not enough for me. He’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I don’t want to ruin it.

Riley places a hand on Isadora’s shoulder and offers a sympathetic smile. Isadora responds by resting her head on Riley’s shoulder, so Riley moves her arm to wrap around her. 

> **Riley:** You know how much Eric cares for you. There’s nothing you could do to ruin it. You’re part of the Matthews family forever now, no matter who your father is and whether you meet him or not. 
> 
> **Isadora:** You’re my favorite cousin. 
> 
> **Riley:** I won’t tell Auggie you said that. And you’re my favorite cousin, too.

Riley plants a kiss on Isadora’s cheek with a ‘ _muah_.’ Isadora pulls a face of disgust and escapes from her grasp as Riley giggles.

> **Isadora:** Minus five cousin points. Auggie’s in the lead now. 
> 
> **Riley:** Nooo!

She chases after Isadora, trying to engulf her in a hug as both girls laugh.

**INT. GARDNER HOME - CHARLIE’S BEDROOM - NIGHT**

Charlie is back from a late rehearsal for showdown, changing out of his Haverford uniform. He strips off his shirt and places it in the laundry hamper, checking how his clothes from the car wash are faring.

Still damp. At this rate, it feels like they’re never going to go back to normal.

Suddenly, the house below him erupts with sound, voices being raised in the kitchen downstairs. It goes without saying, but raised voices are almost non-existent in the Gardner household. Charlie freezes, listening intently until he recognizes exactly what he’s dreading -- a higher-pitched, defensive voice. Rosie’s voice.

He drops the wet clothes and reaches for the first top he can find -- which just happens to be an AAA sweatshirt -- and yanks it on as he rushes into the hall.

**INT. GARDNER HOME - KITCHEN - NIGHT**

This time, there’s no question as to whether there is a fight. Rosie and ELEANOR GARDNER are more heated than we’ve ever seen either of them onscreen, yelling at one another and cheeks flushed. Rosie is particularly loud, in near hysterics since she’s young, emotional, and also on defense; Eleanor maintains a cool, superior tone even as she raises her volume.

Charlie slides into the room right in the thick of it, jumping in the middle without hesitation and questioning what the heck is going on. When he can get them to acknowledge him, Eleanor actually seems pleased by his presence, openly welcoming him into the argument.

> **Eleanor:** Oh, perfect, just what we needed. A second opinion. Rosamund, why don’t you tell your brother why you’re in trouble? Go on.

Rosie, on the other hand, is _not_ receptive to Charlie joining the conversation. She loses a lot of her fire, shrinking back and face flushing in embarrassment. Eleanor scoffs, though it seems like this is exactly how she expected her to react.

> **Eleanor:** What’s the matter? Are you suddenly shy? You sure were loud enough arguing back to me about it, and now you won’t tell Charlie?
> 
> **Charlie:** Can someone just tell me what’s going on?!
> 
> **Eleanor:** Gladly!

Eleanor pointedly places Rosie’s phone on the countertop, which she’s been holding the whole time. It’s open to an Instagram photo on an unfamiliar page, one of Rosie’s new friends at her gifted high school. It’s a series of photos from some hangout the freshmen were having, but the photo in question surprisingly features another familiar player -- a bunch of the freshmen are sitting around and laughing, and Rosie is grinning while sitting on the lap of URI MINKUS.

It’s pretty innocent, but the implications are enough. Eleanor relays the whole tale, how one of Rosie’s friends from Catholic school told their mom about the photo in her tagged images and the mother was kind enough to inform Eleanor about it. This is already _after_ a discussion she had with Rosie over this boy when she saw them interacting in a less-than-acceptable manner after school when she picked her up. She thought they had cleared it all up, but apparently not, between this photo and the fact that the text messages between her and this Jewish boy are nothing if not flirtatious.

> **Rosie:** You shouldn’t have even been going through my texts anyway!
> 
> **Eleanor:** Oh, shouldn’t I? I didn’t realize _you_ were the authority now! Privacy is a privilege, Rosamund, and you’re continuing to prove that you haven’t earned it!

They continue to escalate again, Charlie bewildered as he slides the phone towards him to get a better look. The photo really is so… nothing, and the whole argument feels so blown out of proportion. But Charlie knows the patterns, he knows what Bridgette warned him about, and all of the shouting and conflict is making him lightheaded.

> **Charlie, weary:** Stop arguing.
> 
> **Eleanor:** I knew we shouldn’t have let you go to the gifted school. I _knew_ you’d be better off staying in the Catholic system.
> 
> **Rosie:** Then why did you let me go?!
> 
> **Eleanor:** Maybe I shouldn’t have! Maybe _that’s_ the thing I shouldn’t have done! In fact, maybe I’ll have to put a call into the deans and see if they can’t transfer you back --
> 
> **Rosie, mortified:** Mom, _no_!
> 
> **Charlie:** _Stop_ …

The room is starting to spin a little bit. Charlie braces himself against the countertop, screwing his eyes shut and trying to block out the yelling. But he can’t run from it. He can’t hide.

> **Rosie:** Charlie got to go to a different school! He got to go somewhere new without you breathing down his neck!
> 
> **Eleanor:** Because Charlie is responsible enough to handle it! You don’t see _him_ posting suggestive content, flirting shamelessly, making questionable decisions. I don’t need to monitor your brother because he doesn’t give me any _reason_ to be concerned!

Oh, Eleanor, if only you _knew_ … it’s being invoked and talked about in such a discordant way that acts as the final straw. Charlie tries to catch his breath, but it’s not coming back, and it’s like the whole world is slipping away from him…

If anything will stop an argument, passing out probably does the trick. Charlie stumbles and then collapses onto the tile floor, shocking both Eleanor and Rosie out of their anger. Rosie shrieks and rushes to his side.

> **Eleanor:** Charlie?! Ambrose! _[ rushing to the entryway ]_ Ambrose, Charlie’s -- come quickly! Hurry!

Charlie’s down, all right. Rosie rolls him onto his back, checking for obvious injury -- lucky he didn’t crack his head open or something -- and trying to rouse him. But he’s out like a light… all of the tension slowly fading away…

**INT. HAVERFORD PREP - AUDITORIUM - NIGHT**

Meanwhile, Brandon is staying late at Haverford once again, only this time he’s not alone. He’s meeting with a mysterious figure, a HIPSTER 20-something man who is probably into photography or a wannabe filmmaker. But he’s clearly there on business, Brandon and the man speaking in hushed tones as they converse even though they’re the only ones around.

> **Brandon:** And you’re sure you’ve got the whole thing? I’m not paying for poor quality or fractions.
> 
> **Hipster:** I’ve been doing this for six years. Think I know what I’m doing at this point. But yes, it’s all there. Professional quality. You’ll be able to see whatever you need to see.

Brandon deems this response satisfactory enough, nodding. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small wad of cash, trading it off with whatever object the hipster is offering. When they retract their hands, Brandon comes away with the secret item -- a flash drive.

He scrutinizes it idly while the hipster quickly counts the bills, then they exchange a nod, Brandon thanking him for his service. The hipster makes his exit, Brandon pacing for a bit on the stage and turning over the flash drive in his fingers. Whatever it is, he seems pretty satisfied to have it in his grasp.

He loses some of his easygoing confidence when he hears the auditorium doors open. He slips the flash drive into his blazer pocket and straightens up, narrowing his eyes to assess his new company. When he recognizes who it is, though, an intrigued smirk blooms across his face.

> **Brandon:** Well, well, well. I have to say, this is an unexpected surprise.

Maya Hart. Dressed in one of her sharpest ensembles, Valerie’s fur coat giving her that extra oomph, matching Brandon’s cool sophistication effortlessly. She leisurely saunters her way down the aisle towards the stage, taking her sweet time.

> **Maya:** So this is the fabled Haverford Prep. _[ pursing her lips ]_ I have to say, I was anticipating greater grandeur.
> 
> **Brandon:** It’s hard when the indigent experience excellence for the first time. Never quite meets the expectations of their hapless daydreams… _[ off her sneer ]_ Is there something I can do for you, Hart? Let alone at this late hour?
> 
> **Maya:** Don’t flatter yourself. It’s 8PM.

She’s made her way to the stage now, coming to stand opposite Brandon front and center. There’s a healthy distance between them, keeping them staunchly on opposing sides, but they regard each other with respect. Maya claims she just wanted to come have a little chat, clan leader to clan leader.

> **Brandon:** That so? I thought Friar was your figurehead.
> 
> **Maya:** We both have our respective areas of expertise. I like to think of myself as the Cheney to his Bush. Conservative politics notwithstanding.
> 
> **Brandon:** Was going to say. I don’t see Cheney being much of a swinger for socialist handouts like you all are gunning for. _[ sizing her up ]_ But I’ll admit, I pegged you for a captain rather than a lackey. You sure took front and center at the car wash.
> 
> **Maya:** Ah, yes… the function you so ceremoniously soiled.
> 
> **Brandon:** Hope you’ll forgive the incursion. It’s only business. A little competitive spirit is all.
> 
> **Maya:** Oh, no arguments from me. I’m more incensed I didn’t see it coming. Wish I had thought of it myself.

Brandon chuckles, perhaps a bit won over by her… unique Maya charms. He claims he got the sense they were more alike than different… in fact, if circumstances were different, and they weren’t sworn rivals… Maya catches onto his drift right quick, mirroring his smug charisma as she feigns sympathy.

> **Maya:** So you like what you see. Don’t despair, you’re far from the only one. But I’m afraid that’s a forgone impossibility.
> 
> **Brandon:** _[ processing what might be a rejection ]_ Ah. I see. _[ like they’re confidants ]_ You play for the other team?

Well. That’s a pretty bold assumption to jump to just because she doesn’t want to get with you, Brandon. But Maya maintains her coolness, unperturbed by such arrogant conclusions. She makes a face, as if she’s contemplating.

> **Maya:** … no team. Let’s put it that way.
> 
> **Brandon:** And what’s that supposed to mean exactly?
> 
> **Maya:** The only team I play for is Triple A. And that’s what I’m here for.

Brandon backs off his advances and allows her the floor, back to all business. She tactfully begins to discuss negotiations around senior showdown, dancing around the details of everything going wrong inside the ranks of the A class but letting just enough of her cards show to indicate that she’s only here due to dire circumstances. Then she subtly tries to charm her way to an ideal outcome, brokering a deal where maybe, just perhaps, Haverford might find themselves on the losing side of the showdown confrontation.

You know she’s desperate if Maya is trying to arrange a thrown victory. And Brandon can sense that too, even as aloof as she’s acting, which just makes the whole situation more amusing to him. Though he feigned listening to her pitch, he is all too eager to shoot it down. Why would Haverford want to throw the competition, he muses, when their winning streak is so hot and their competition is apparently so weak?

> **Brandon:** I knew you all were hardly a threat, but this is even more pathetic than I thought. I mean, you _and_ Friar coming to me trying to cut a deal for an easy victory -- what a leadership duo. You all must be in harsher condition than I imagined.
> 
> **Maya:** Wait, what?
> 
> **Brandon:** … you didn’t know? That your president already paid me a little visit earlier in the semester?

Maya doesn’t respond, but the way she’s lost her easy confidence as she stares at him answers for her. Brandon laughs, shaking his head.

> **Brandon:** What presidential teamwork. Clearly, the future of Adams is in _outstanding_ hands. But with such low confidence, and even lower moves you’ll stoop to… no, I believe Haverford is _just_ fine where we are now. We’ll beat you handily, as we have for the last six years, and rest assured Hart, it’ll be with immense pleasure. _[ a beat ]_ You should probably be going, then. The security doesn’t take kindly to riff-raff hanging around our hallowed halls.

He swivels and swaggers offstage, leaving Maya alone and humiliated in enemy territory. She’s fuming, gritting her teeth and fists clenched at her sides.

**INT. CHUBBIES - NIGHT**

Riley is seated at the counter with her laptop, keeping Lucas company while he works the late shift. She’s running through analytics of the RSVPs they’ve already gotten for the dance fundraiser, which she claims is looking pretty good.

Lucas isn’t in a very optimistic mood, commenting that even if they get half of Manhattan to show up, it probably won’t be enough to cover all their expenses including the scholarships. With their chances at showdown dwindling by the minute… who knows. Maybe he’s not doing absolutely everything he can to make it happen…

Riley closes her laptop, giving him her undivided attention.

> **Riley:** Don’t count Triple A out of showdown just yet, please and thank you. But I think I know what this is really about.

Lucas hesitates, freezing up.

> **Lucas:** You do?
> 
> **Riley:** Yeah. You act like you’re so hard to read, like I don’t know you well enough to figure out when you’re not telling me something.

How could she know… did Zay tell her about seeing Missy in the booth? He swallows. She reaches across the counter and takes his hands, giving him a sympathetic look.

> **Riley:** You’re freaking out over the college essays.
> 
> **Lucas:** Oh. _[ a beat ]_ Yeah, well, I guess I am.

Riley reminds him that he doesn’t have to keep that kind of stuff from her and act like he’s unshakeable all the time. And honestly, she gets why he’s nervous about them. It sucks writing about yourself no matter what -- unless you’re Maya -- but it’ll be even harder for him given the things he’s been through. He hasn’t exactly been encouraged to view himself favorably, at least not until recently. Old habits are hard to break.

> **Riley:** But that’s not necessarily what they’re looking for anyway. You don’t need to prove to them that you’re the most perfect shining candidate to ever apply, you just need to give them a really good story. Make them invested, get them to care about you. Show them a bit of your individuality, your personality -- which you are not short of in either department. And I know for a fact you can draw people in…

She is, after all, a prime example. Lucas still seems doubtful, but her perspective does help. And her belief in him continues to astound him, forged in steel even when everything else feels so unpredictable. Riley leans forward to give him a soft kiss, which lingers between them.

It’s impressive, too, how being with her grounds him. How their closeness doesn’t feel like an intrusion… and somehow, feeling cornered by other forces or put on edge just makes him want to be with her more. Lucas initiates another kiss, forgetting everything else for a moment, taking shelter in that inexplicable safety with her. Riley has no complaints, leaning deeper into it and tightening her touch on his hand.

Then the front door bangs open, the bell jangling ominously. Both of them jump and pull apart. Maya marches into the diner, indignant and blue eyes burning.

> **Maya:** What the _hell_ , Friar?
> 
> **Lucas:** What’s the matter with you now?
> 
> **Riley:** Is everything okay?
> 
> **Maya:** When were you going to tell me you _shook down_ Brandon?
> 
> **Riley:** _[ whipping to look at him ] What?_

Lucas clams up, straightening upright and taking on a defensive stance. But the sheepish expression on his face gives him away. Busted.

> **Maya:** You know, I think that kind of mercenary maneuver is exactly the sort of decision your VP should know about. Were you just never going to let me in on it?
> 
> **Riley:** Why the hell did you do that?
> 
> **Maya:** I don’t care about that. Friar’s a shady bastard, we all knew his methods were going to be far from clean. Who gives a shit. _I’m_ pissed he decided not to keep me in the loop! Do you have any idea how _humiliating_ it was for me to roll up there only for Brandon Rivas to hand my ass to me on a silver platter? Cocky prick, like he knows absolutely everything --
> 
> **Riley:** Wait, wait. _[ eyeing her ]_ Why were _you_ confronting Brandon?

Oh. Well. Cough. Maya flips her hair off her shoulder, but she can’t give a good excuse that doesn’t make her just as culpable as Lucas. He raises his eyebrows at her, emphasizing that if he’s going down she’s going with him. Riley closes her eyes, trying to catch up to this turn of events.

> **Riley:** Let me get this straight. _Both_ of you went to our competition, at separate times, to try and threaten them into… what? Giving up? Throwing the showdown?
> 
> **Lucas:** I just thought that --
> 
> **Maya:** Our prospects are in shambles even without the money. I was just --
> 
> **Lucas:** And I didn’t want you to be disappointed --
> 
> **Maya:** Everyone is counting on me, we’ve all got a lot riding on --
> 
> **Riley:** Okay, okay, stop. Enough!

Riley holds her hands up, getting them both to shut up. She takes a moment to compose herself, taking a deep breath, then she jumps into fixer mode.

> **Riley:** This must be the week for damage control, because now you’ve really done it. You realize now we’re going to have to bring it even harder, since you’ve made it perfectly clear to Brandon and the Havies that we’re spooked. You wouldn’t go and grovel for mercy if we weren’t.
> 
> **Lucas:** That wasn’t --
> 
> **Maya, scoffing:** I do _not_ grovel --
> 
> **Riley:** I cannot believe you would do something so stupid. _[ to Lucas ]_ And that you would do something like this and not tell me…

Oof… hit him where it hurts, Riles. Lucas lowers his head, avoiding her eyes. Case in point, it doesn’t make anybody look very good. And now, Riley proclaims, she has to fix it once again.

> **Riley:** We’re going to have to brainstorm fast for showdown and make sure everything is in pristine shape, which we already know is a shot in the dark. Call Yindra, tell her to come by our place in twenty. I’ll see if we can get Jeff and Isadora too.

Riley puts her belongings back in her bag and hops off the stool, Maya already heading out. Riley goes to follow her, but she pauses in the doorway and glances back over her shoulder at Lucas. She shakes her head, obviously disappointed.

> **Riley:** I can’t believe you.

She leaves it there, pushing through the doors without another word. Lucas looks after her, ashamed, then curses to himself and lightly hits the counter with his palm.

* * *

**_Break 2._ **

* * *

**EXT. DANCE LOT - DREAM SEQUENCE - NIGHT**

Charlie is sprawled on the asphalt, just like when he collapsed, the city uncharacteristically quiet around him. When he comes around he jolts upright, spooked at being outside and on his own. He looks around in confusion, no clue where he is or how he got there. He slowly gets to his feet, recognizing the dance lot as a place he’s been before, but unsure where exactly it is or where to go next.

Only one clue exists to help guide him. Music.

It’s quiet, muffled, but he can hear it. A thumping bass, hypnotic beat… he spins until he zeroes in on the source. A heavy metal door installed into the wall opposite him, propped open just slightly, with a neon sign above indicating it’s likely some kind of club. Colorful light leaks out from the crack, mesmerizing and more than intriguing.

But it’s really the music that wins him over. He’s a dancer, and he cannot resist a compelling groove. He cautiously approaches the door, pulling it open and then stepping inside… as the faraway rhythms slowly become a familiar tune...

* * *

**INT. DANCE CLUB - DREAM SEQUENCE - NIGHT**

**Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Voulez-Vous” as performed by _Mamma Mia!_ Original Movie Cast || Performed by AAA Seniors & Haverford Seniors**

The rambunctious ABBA classic kicks off with a bang, music loud and boldly setting the scene. The lighting is mysterious, electric, the fully romanticized version of what a sultry, exciting disco scene might be like. Charlie is no longer dressed in his everyday clothes but is suddenly styled to match the vibes, sporting a sleek disco suit with Riley’s aforementioned blue dress shirt completing the look.

And as he ventures deeper into the club, he discovers he’s not alone. The place is packed with his classmates both current and former, Haverford populating one side and Adams the other, but all dressed in similar, near identical, disco suits. All eyes lock on him the moment he’s within view, judging him, waiting for him to make a move -- or pick a side.

The vocals start, and Charlie does neither, jumping down from the steps and sliding into the center of the glowing dance floor -- right down the middle of party lines. He starts the number dancing alone, challenging the established status quo in the club, tension mounting around his transgression of crossing lines…

Until Zay pushes through the crowd on the A class side. On both feet, looking fly as ever, no injury in sight and nothing holding him back from showing his stuff.

_And here we go again, we know the start, we know the end  
Masters of the scene_

Charlie pauses, locking eyes with Zay. For a moment, finishing up the pre-chorus, they just hold eye contact… letting that tension bubble over…

Then Zay jumps into the center of the floor with him, joining in the dance.

_Voulez-vous!_

For the first chorus it’s just Zay and Charlie, dancing sometimes together and sometimes in contrast, epitomizing the back-and-forth pull between them. But it’s them, so the dancing is remarkably good, and especially satisfying considering how long it’s been since we saw them share a routine. Their timing and chemistry is just as sharp as ever, and it’s also a relief just to see Zay be able to move again.

Throughout the second verse, they weave back into their respective schools, Charlie’s peers still eyeing each other suspiciously and reluctant to break rank. But Zay manages to get Riley out on the dance floor (with Lucas in tow), and then Charlie nudges Evan. Bit by bit the classes mix and mingle, caught somewhere between dancing in tandem and facing off like foes. This becomes especially pronounced during the bridge about 3 and half minutes in, when the chorus becomes stripped and just relies on “ _ahas_ ,” Charlie leading the Haverford delegation and Zay fronting the A class as they mirror movements and poses.

Then they officially bleed together, classmates crossing into opposite territory for the final chorus. For those who don’t already have a pair in their respective class (unlike say, Dylan and Asher), they pair with someone from the opposite school, like Brandon and Maya.

And, naturally, Zay and Charlie. They’re back together at the center of it all, intensity rising with the music, choreography much more intertwined this time and _very_ close together. If not breaking charged eye contact were an Olympic sport, they would win gold easily.

* * *

The flash. The glamor. The _drama_. ABBA would be proud! When they round out the final seconds and strike their final pose, Zay and Charlie’s faces are so close, all it would take is a centimeter in either direction…

> **Zay:** Charlie...

Charlie’s eyes flit down to his lips, as if he’s contemplating that very thing…

> **Rosie, faraway:** _Charlie_!

**INT. GARDNER HOME - CHARLIE’S BEDROOM - NIGHT**

Alas, not meant to be -- even in dream sequence. Charlie rouses awake when he’s shaken by Rosie, sitting on the bed next to him.

Oh, well. Wouldn’t be the same as doing it for real anyway.

Charlie blinks to adjust back to reality, Rosie releasing a momentous sigh when she sees he’s conscious again. She snaps at him for scaring her, informing him that his fainting spell totally freaked her and Eleanor out. Ambrose is on the phone with their doctor friend right now. He manages to sit up and apologizes for worrying them. It’s probably just… stress.

> **Rosie:** Either way, bad party trick. Mom was so bugged out. You shouldn’t tell her you think it’s stress, or else she’ll probably yank you out of school too and back into Catholic prep.
> 
> **Charlie:** Yeah, speaking of… you really think she’s going to do that to you?
> 
> **Rosie:** … after you passed out, the conversation was basically dropped. If I keep quiet and don’t do anything else to incriminate myself, I think she’ll let it go. _[ embittered ]_ Though sucks that I can’t even text who I want without her knowing every message I send. I doubt she’ll even let me _speak_ to Uri now.
> 
> **Charlie:** Pro-tip? Change his contact name. Mom only goes looking for what she thinks is a problem. If you give him something inconspicuous, she’s never going to know otherwise.

Rosie stares at him, shocked her saltine brother would even think of something like that. I mean, he might be an alcoholic, but still… but it’s good advice all the same. Charlie goes on to explain that he was worried about her, too, and he doesn’t want her to feel like she’s trapped or she has to lash out. You can negotiate with Eleanor, you just have to be clever about it. He doesn’t want her to make the same mistakes that Bridgette did.

> **Rosie:** Yeah, I know… thanks for looking out for me.
> 
> **Charlie:** So… Uri Minkus, huh?
> 
> **Rosie:** Ugh.
> 
> **Charlie:** He’s really _that_ worth sneaking around to text?
> 
> **Rosie:** … I guess you could say… perhaps… _maybe_ … that I have like, the _tiniest_ crush on him. Just a little bit.

Charlie can’t help his smile. He jokes that she should be careful, not because of Eleanor’s concerns, but because if they get married then Farkle is going to become their in-law, and she has _no_ idea what she’s in for if that happens. She groans and nudges Charlie, telling him to shut up, but it’s clear she’s already in better spirits than most of this week. She asks if he’s okay given that all his “stress” is literally making him pass out. Is everything okay with Adams? Charlie admits that he wishes things were easier to navigate than they are.

> **Charlie:** Honestly, I think I’m just naturally gifted at making everything worse. _[ with a weak laugh ]_ Probably should’ve listened to dad when he asked if transferring during senior year was a good idea.

Rosie points out that maybe some of that stress weighing on him is just stuff he creates in his own head. Not to demean it or anything, but like… does everything have to be an anxiety-inducing dilemma? If he wants to go hang out with his friends, from either school, then he should just go do that. He’s allowed to enjoy himself every once and a while and take a break from being the perfect saltine protective older brother. You know, have _fun_.

> **Rosie:** _[ holding up a finger ]_ Sober fun.

Charlie’s turn to laugh and nudge her. But maybe she has a point. And there might be just the perfect upcoming event where he can relax and have some fun…

**INT. ERIC’S APARTMENT - NIGHT**

We join Eric and Isadora in the midst of their conversation. Eric reads Valerie’s letter while Isadora watches with her lips pressed together. Once he finishes the letter, he takes a moment to process it. 

> **Eric:** Wow. That’s… a lot. 
> 
> **Isadora:** What do you think? 
> 
> **Eric:** I think that what I think isn’t important at all right now. What do _you_ think? Do you want to get in contact with him?

Isadora thinks about it as she wrings her hands. 

> **Isadora:** I’m not sure. But… you aren’t upset? 
> 
> **Eric:** Why would I be upset? 
> 
> **Isadora:** If I do want to meet him, I’m worried you’ll think that you’re not enough for me or something. I don’t want to hurt you. 
> 
> **Eric:** Isadora, that could never happen. I’m not hurt at all, I just want what’s best for you, and a relationship with your father could be something really good. 
> 
> **Isadora:** What if it isn’t, though? I don’t want to set myself up for disappointment. Again. 
> 
> **Eric:** That’s understandable. You don’t have to make a decision now, though. You have all the time you want to think it over. [ a beat ] If you want, you could write a letter to him yourself. You don’t have to send it, but it can be cathartic to write out everything you’re thinking and feeling about the situation.

Unsure, Isadora pulls a face. Eric reminds her again to just think about it -- no major decisions necessary right now.

**INT. AAA - JACK’S OFFICE - DAY**

Lucas is meeting with Jack one last time before the dance fundraiser to grab another cash box and go over any last minute details. Jack questions if he’s going to be dressing for the occasion, to which Lucas rolls his eyes but begrudgingly admits that he thinks Riley would be even more upset with him if he didn’t. Though he doesn’t have all the details, Jack assures Lucas that he’s sure Riley isn’t going to be angry for long.

One can only hope. Jack wishes Lucas luck and then he heads out, leaving him to his work. He settles back into it until he lifts his gaze and catches Yancy heading out of the building, checking out for the weekend.

All of Jack’s frustration from his conversation with Evelyn bubbles back up again. He pushes out of his chair, jogging out of his office.

**EXT. AAA - DAY**

Jack catches Yancy on his way down the steps, telling him that they need to talk. Yancy claims whatever it is can surely wait until Monday, but Jack isn’t having it.

> **Jack:** No, I don’t think your _active_ sabotage of my school can wait another damn second.

Yancy is stunned by his coarse language, effectively halting him long enough to have the confrontation. Well, what then? Jack questions when exactly he planned to let him know about his ongoing anti-campaign against the student government’s scholarship endeavors, or what would drive him and Graham to work to pit the board against them. He knows that they aren’t fond of him, especially after his stunt at the trial, but taking it out on the _students_? Who does that benefit? What do they gain from that?

> **Yancy, sharply:** Actually, Jackson, you’ve hit the nail on the head. After your little unprofessional display, why _wouldn’t_ we be invested in halting any other schemes you deem a good idea? Particularly when your chosen favorite himself just miraculously managed to become student body president in a school that _hates_ his very existence?
> 
> **Jack:** You have no idea what you’re talking about, and Lucas won that election on his own merit. It had nothing to do with me.
> 
> **Yancy:** It has everything to do with you! Everything does! So long as you are at the helm of this ship, making all the calls, _everything_ ties back to you. And we used to trust you with that power. But all this behavior as of late -- declining lucrative offers, favoring delinquents --
> 
> **Jack:** He is _not_ a delinquent!
> 
> **Yancy:** Or how about cavorting with a fellow employee? _[ off his shocked expression ]_ Oh, come on, Jackson, I’m not naive. Did you and Eric really believe you could flaunt your little flirtation right in front my face and I wouldn’t notice a thing? As if my whole purpose at that school isn’t to keep it from collapsing under your unprofessional whimsy and desires!

This whole time, he’s been observing, watching the operation of AAA from the inside out, trying to determine if Jack remains fit to head the institution. Yancy admits, when Graham first put him up for the job, he was skeptical -- he’d always had great belief in Jack as an educator. He was doubtful that he had really slipped so far… but now he’s seen for himself. There is a certain way things are done, and it seems Jack has forgotten all of his proper perspective in service to that law and order.

> **Yancy:** When I finish my report to the board at the end of the semester, they’ll be the judge of whether or not you deserve to stay where you are. But believe me, if I had it my way, you’d be out of that position and filing for unemployment faster than lightning.
> 
> **Jack:** You can’t do this. You can’t eject me from the role simply because _your_ perspective is too old-fashioned to be flexible. Or empathetic. And unwilling to examine context --
> 
> **Yancy:** Well, we’ll just let the board decide that, won’t we.

Guess we will. Yancy fussily buttons his coat.

> **Yancy:** I would watch yourself if I were you, Jackson. In my opinion, it’s far too late, but we both know how easy it is to tip the scales slightly in your favor. Maybe you’ll salvage this yet. Otherwise, I’d start contemplating alternative paths. Have a good evening.

Yancy stomps down the steps, not waiting for a goodbye. Jack swallows his panic, trying to remain resolute in the face of so much pressure. Scrambling to figure out what to do next...

A groovy disco track bleeds into the soundscape, totally dissonant to Jack’s dread --

**INT. DANCE VENUE - NIGHT**

**Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Streetdance” as performed by Disco Street Machine || Instrumental**

The ‘70s dance fundraiser is in full swing, and it seems to be doing well! The venue is packed not just with Adams students but other community members, promising at least some greater revenue from the whole ordeal. The scene is set with funky lighting and a dance floor, along with some flower-power type decorations and a fun mirrorball hanging above it all.

It’s mainly cool to see everyone leaning into the theme and dressed in their best approximations of ‘70s garb. We’ve got funky vests, blazers for days, chunky platform boots, a few bohemian chic vibes, you name it. A few establishing shots show us all these looks and more while the assembled crowd grooves to the disco track. Yogi is wandering with his camera, capturing footage for posterity and social media.

Lucas is manning the check-in table, this time keeping control over the money in his own hands. He maintains a cordial enough demeanor as he interacts with potential patrons, and he is giving some semblance of ‘70s as promised in his collared-shirt-under-sweater look. He’s serving like… gothic Fred Jones, which is about as much as you’re gonna get from him.

Asher and Dylan, on the other hand, are representing much better. Asher is repping the funky vest and puffy sleeve shirt vibe, matched well with some maroon bell-bottoms and swooped back hair, while Dylan is truly going disco with a silky vibrant shirt tucked into silver pants, a huge, chunky pair of Elton John tinted glasses the cherry on top of the ensemble. They ask how cash flow is going, and Lucas claims fine, but they’re not out of the woods by a long shot.

> **Lucas:** If things don’t pick up, I’m going to start pickpocketing.
> 
> **Asher:** Yes, that’s exactly what we need. A literal crook for president.
> 
> **Dylan:** Isn’t that like every president?

Anyway, Lucas needs to chill. Or as Dylan puts it, surrender to the boogie. Which is what he and Asher are going to go do right now -- the dance floor beckons them. Asher leads the way, Dylan walking backwards so he can maintain eye contact with Lucas and literally disco groove away from him as encouragement to give in to the funk. Lucas just shakes his head, unimpressed.

When Lucas gets back to work, who should be waiting to purchase a ticket in but Charlie Gardner. He’s dressed for the occasion too, dressed in dark pants and a white blazer… with Riley’s chosen blue shirt underneath. It seems he followed her guidance and went for it after all. Lucas greets him and commends him for turning out, considering all the bad blood between Haverford and AAA right now. Brave of him to show up.

Doesn’t he know it… but he wants to be here. Lucas takes his money and nods for him to go on in, sending him into the fray.

Meanwhile, Zay is parked at one of the tables, not in the best mood considering he’s surrounded by the boogie and can’t participate. Nigel is doing his best to cheer him up, but it’s sort of a fruitless effort. When Zay catches him eyeing Jade, who the techies managed to extract from the loft to at least enjoy the dance, he sighs and tells him to go have fun. He doesn’t have to waste away with him. Nigel argues against that take, but Zay nods him onward, insisting.

So Nigel bounces to his feet, thanking Zay before cutting through the crowd in the direction of Jade. Zay watches him go, bittersweet at being left alone again.

Charlie skirts the edges for a bit before finding companionship in Farkle, who greets him plainly. He’s dressed like Eric Forman, wearing a simple button down and bellbottoms combo with a loose brown corduroy jacket. He and Charlie briefly catch up, commenting on how the turn out is and how great the aesthetic is. But Farkle is still a bit lost in his own head, and Charlie notices. He elbows him lightly.

> **Charlie:** You okay?
> 
> **Farkle:** _[ with some of his usual humor ]_ Chuck, that’s like asking the sky if it’s red. I think you already know the answer.

But he’ll live. Once he figures some things out… it’ll be fine. It has to be. Vagueness aside, Charlie can tell there’s more to it, but he opts to focus on distraction rather than problem-solving. He’s had enough problem-solving for a lifetime this week. He invites Farkle to go dance instead, playfully challenging him to show what disco moves he’s got up his sleeve.

> **Farkle:** Oh, you’re going to regret this -- and not because I’m good.

Charlie laughs, gesturing for him to lead the way onto the dance floor.

Maya jumps up onto the small stage set up with the DJ booth, taking the microphone and briefly thanking everyone for coming out. No applause necessary for putting it together, really… and she waits until the audience feels compelled to applaud. Then she waves them off “humbly” before reminding them of all the ways they can support the Adams senior class while at this benefit -- mainly financially! And by getting down and boogie-oogie-oogying. Peace!

Lucas shakes his head at Maya’s speech, lightly amused, but all of his calm is wiped away when Missy walks through the door. She’s dressed in simple ‘70s, a gorgeous and slightly revealing silk disco mini dress and with her hair blown out like Farah Fawcett. She cheekily compliments him on his get up.

> **Missy, sarcastic:** An ensemble _that_ elaborate must’ve taken ages to throw together. I see you really put an effort in.
> 
> **Lucas:** Maybe. And what’s your excuse?
> 
> **Missy:** Not everything needs to be silly and over the top. In fact, I think the richest things in life are those that go understated. Left unsaid… makes everything a bit more exciting, anticipating whatever more there might be to explore. _[ a beat ]_ Same goes for fashion.
> 
> **Lucas:** … so are you paying, or what?
> 
> **Missy:** As I understand it, Adams seniors get in free. But since I can afford it…

She reaches into her small satin purse, pulling out a wad of cash. She siphons off about half of it -- way more than a ticket would cost -- and drops it into the cash box for him. He eyes it suspiciously, then flits his glare towards her.

> **Missy:** I thought about our little chat. And you’re right, maybe there needs to be something in it for me -- which in this case is a victory at showdown. We’re embarrassing enough right now as it is. At least with the funding, we’ll look good when we crash and burn. And as for the rest…

She folds up the remaining bills in her hand and holds them out for him, gesture subtle but unmistakable. Lucas stares at the money, then glances around them nervously to make sure no one else is looking.

> **Lucas:** What the hell are you doing?
> 
> **Missy:** Come on, Lucas. Don’t be noble. We know how things are between us. I’m just trying to help. And it stays discreet. Think of it as… a bonus, for all the hard work you’re doing for the A class. _[ quieter ]_ I heard you in the booth. You don’t ask for help. Well, sometimes, you don’t have to beg. You can just take… whatever you want.

She raises her eyebrows, subtly challenging him to take it. Lucas hesitates, holding his breath… it feels like a test, he knows it is… but he’s already taken plenty from her without asking. What’s a little more…

> **Missy:** Davis isn’t going to pay for itself, is it?

No. No it isn’t. She’s right, and he knows his chances of reeling a scholarship are slim to none. Does he really want all of this stress for applications to be for nothing?

Reluctantly, Lucas takes the money from her and slips it into his back pocket. Missy smiles, genuinely pleased, though why it’s hard to say. But it’s clear, now more than ever, that whatever little arrangement they’ve got going on here is a pattern now. It’s not just going to flutter away on its own, and the consequences that might come of it remain a mystery.

> **Missy:** Groovy. Enjoy the dance, Lucas.

Lucas doesn’t respond, using the cash box as an excuse not to look at her. But based on flipping through the amount of money she handed over for the fundraiser, they’re way closer to their goal than before. And that has to make it all worth it, right?

**Song Cue ♫ ♪ “September” as performed by Earth, Wind, & Fire || Instrumental**

One of the best songs of the decade comes on next, earning an enthusiastic cheer from the crowd. Riley weaves her way through the throng and rushes up to the entrance to find Lucas, Nate in tow. She’s dressed in a shimmery lavender-mauve jumpsuit, a complimentary hair scarf tying together the groovy look. She pushes Nate in front of her.

> **Riley:** Nate here is taking over table duty.
> 
> **Nate:** You know how I love dem bills, my brother.
> 
> **Riley:** So that _you_ can come dance with me.

Lucas cringes, weakly putting up a fight. Oh, no, no, no… but Riley’s already got her hands on him, and her smile is so damn cute, it would be impossible to refuse her. So he lets her drag him out into the crowd.

Once they’re actually on the dance floor, Riley beams at him and pulls him closer, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. Lucas does his best to be a good sport and play along, especially since he’s already in trouble, placing his hands on her hips and casually swaying to the beat.

> **Lucas:** So… does this mean I’m off the hook for the Brandon thing, or…
> 
> **Riley:** Hm… so as long you’re dancing with me and you look so cute in that sweater, I suppose you can be forgiven.

Better than nothing, though Lucas still clearly feels guilty about disappointing her. Just one of many ways he feels like he’s letting her down… but for now she’s happy, so he’ll just focus on touching her waist and how hot she looks in her jumpsuit.

Across the dance floor, Dylan and Asher are in conversation with Jeff and Yindra, Dylan with his arm draped casually around Asher’s shoulders and bouncing to the beat. They’re discussing the everchanging stakes of their showdown routine -- at this point Yindra claims they should just scrap it all and start over, they’ve got equally as bad a shot with the shoddy routine they have now. But Asher claims that would be a disaster, and they should only cross that bridge if they absolutely must.

Dylan spots something that seems to capture his attention, his eyes widening in excitement. He pinches Asher’s ribs and leans closer, Asher tilting his head to listen to his murmur.

> **Dylan:** Shakespeare in Love, straight ahead.

Asher squints through the dancing crowd and finds what he’s talking about -- Nigel and Jade. He’s actually managed to pull her onto the dance floor, engaging in loose and easy grooving together. She’s laughing, waving off how bad a dancer she is, but he holds one of her hands and assures her she’s good.

Totally radical. Asher and Dylan exchange knowing looks, unable to hold back a grin.

Zay is less enthused, mainly because of his current view -- Charlie, dancing with _Farkle_ of all people to one of the greatest songs there is. Not that there’s anything to be _concerned_ about, really, since they’re clearly just goofing around with each other and Farkle is as promised quite an embarrassing disco dancer. But he’s up and moving, free, having fun, making Charlie laugh -- with Charlie looking disgustingly attractive in his expertly chosen shirt -- and it kind of feels like a perfect vignette of what’s locked away from him.

Everything Zay wants, desperately misses, but can’t have.

His brooding is interrupted when Isadora plops down into the chair across from him, giving him a nod in greeting. He asks why she’s not out there grooving on the dance floor, and she sagely says she’s not interested in getting up to boogie so… publicly. She’s amazed Riley got Lucas out there, but that’s only because of her unique Riley charms. It’s torture in her eyes.

> **Zay:** Speak for yourself, but you’re entitled to your whack opinion.
> 
> **Isadora:** I know, I know. This is killing you. And I respect that. Just not for me. _[ a beat ]_ Maybe it’ll give you some peace to know that you being benched is an undeniable tragedy for all of us.
> 
> **Zay:** The considerate part of me says no, but the egotistical side does love it, thank you.
> 
> **Isadora:** You’re welcome. _[ with a sigh ]_ Now there’s talk of changing the routine if we can’t figure out how to fill your vacancy. Not that I don’t think we could pull it off, but it would take _all_ hands on deck and everyone on board, and I don’t see that happening unless there’s no other alternative. Right now, if we could just find someone to fill your spot -- never as strongly, of course --
> 
> **Zay:** Again, my ego thanks you. You’re not going to take the spot?
> 
> **Isadora:** Uh… I mean, I don’t know. A couple of people suggested it, but look, we know I’m no you. I don’t learn as quickly, and I’ve got enough of a track record with performance mishaps on my own. I mean, what if I do it but I completely freeze the moment we have to go out there? My mom’s parting gift to me was giving me the one thing she never had -- stage fright. Doesn’t that seem too risky to throw in there when the stakes are higher than ever?
> 
> **Zay:** Man, I don’t know. I get what you’re saying, but all I know is that I would kill to be able to perform right now. And if you’re debating it at all, then to me, that means you want to -- and if I had the ability to do it, I wouldn’t waste it for a second on what ifs.

Very insightful, Zay. Isadora contemplates this… then she points out to Zay that just because he’s off his feet doesn’t mean he has to fade into oblivion. He’s got to take the time to heal, but that doesn’t mean he can’t be involved in the class or productions. He just has to find new ways to involve himself rather than what he’s used to.

**Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Y.M.C.A.” as performed by Village People || Instrumental**

Another classic! In an instant, Riley appears at their table, teeming with enthusiasm and reaching for Zay’s hands. She insists that he get up dance with her -- to which he reminds her that he’s booted -- but she points out that anyone can do the Y.M.C.A. It’s just shouting and arms! So he relents, allowing her to help him to his feet, but his grin betrays his aloof demeanor.

Farkle slides over moments later, telling Isadora that she better get up and join them too. If Zay can do it, she has no excuse. She rolls her eyes, but she really can’t argue with him on that.

So the dance wraps up with a flourish, the full class laughing, sing-shouting and goofing off together to the party favorite that literally anyone can do. Nigel and Riley each support Zay on either side, and he looks about as joyful as he has in weeks. Asher and Dylan prevent Lucas from escaping, keeping him on the dance floor and trapping him in the Y.M.C.A groove too. Charlie dances with Haley and Clarissa, who take turns twirling under his arms.

Yogi and Dave make their way through it all, capturing all the joy of a successful fundraiser on camera so they’ll never forget it.

**INT. DANCE VENUE - LATER - NIGHT**

The party has wrapped up, only the A class hanging around to clean up. Well, the A class and Charlie, who insisted it was no problem to stay back and assist in tidying. He’s working with Nigel and Yindra at stacking chairs, the latter of which comments playfully that he really is too helpful for his own good.

> **Yindra:** Such a good little Christian, truly. It’s like God injected his compassion mission into your cute white boy veins.
> 
> **Charlie:** Well… not that good, admittedly. _[ a beat ]_ I think if he was going to make his prototype golden child, he would’ve skipped the part where he made me gay.

Oop. Wow, a casual coming out -- and with a little humor, too! Charlie is getting better at this. Yindra raises her eyebrows at him, assessing for a moment whether or not he might be joking… and then she breaks into a wide grin, wrapping an arm around his shoulders.

> **Yindra:** Oh, Charlie, Charlie, Charlie… I always knew I liked you. And I should’ve known, considering that awful _Les Mis_ kiss still haunts my nightmares.

She asks how long he’s been out, or at least telling people, and Nigel slides in to proudly note that he told him before Yindra. She rolls her eyes. Charlie admits it’s slow-going and hasn’t been easy, especially with the community outside of AAA, but it feels good every time he does it. Hopefully the rest of his world will turn out tolerant too.

Yindra invites him to her church that Sunday for a change of pace. She’s performing a solo in the choir, so it’ll be guaranteed entertaining, and it might be good for him to see an actually accepting church environment for a change.

> **Nigel:** She just wants to force you to see her ‘70s performance before she shares it with the class on Monday. The more people she can force to be her audience, the better.
> 
> **Yindra:** Hey, now, I don’t care for your sass, Chey Chey.

Either way, her church runs later than his, so it shouldn’t conflict. And Nigel will be there too -- she’s bribing him with brunch -- so it’ll be like a fun little outing. Charlie just seems happy to be connecting with his peers again, so he happily agrees.

> **Nate, pre-lap:** 70… 80… 90…

**INT. CHUBBIES - NIGHT**

Lucas, Maya, Riley, Dylan, Asher, Isadora, and Farkle are convened in and around the back corner booth, watching nervously as Nate counts the final income from the dance fundraiser. All of them are holding their breath… Maya is pacing like a wildcat, ready to pounce and tear him to shreds if the number is too low.

> **Isadora:** Jesus, Nate, can’t you count any faster?
> 
> **Nate:** No, I don’t cut corners when it comes to money. Now shut up, or I’ll have to start over.
> 
> **Farkle, exhausted:** Hush, Isa. Don’t make him start over.

Silence settles over them again… and Nate finishes counting the bills from the cashbox. He lifts up a finger to halt them from asking, writing the number down and then pulling up the calculator app on his phone. After combining the total from this with the car wash haul…

> **Nate:** We did it. Crazy sons of bitches, we did it!

They officially made the money to pay for the damages _and_ fund their showdown needs. Victory! All of them cheer, hugging each other and clapping enthusiastically. Riley wraps her arms around Lucas and kisses his cheek, while he’s looking pretty relieved.

> **Nate:** I gotta say though, the numbers seem kind of skewed based on the actual attendance we had. Someone must’ve made a _huge_ donation. _[ to Lucas ]_ Did you notice anyone drop some major cash?

Oh, interesting… Lucas pauses, then breezes past the question. He claims it doesn’t matter who donated what -- they’re in the clear, and now they can focus on what matters. It’s time to kick Haverford’s pretentious privileged ass at showdown.

Hear, hear! The group cheers again, exchanging high-fives and reveling in their hard-earned success.

**INT. ERIC’S APARTMENT - NIGHT**

Isadora arrives home, shedding her jacket and shoes at the door. She’s relaxed, and has a relieved smile on her face. From where he sits on the sofa, Eric looks over to her. 

> **Isadora:** We did it! We raised all the money we need. 
> 
> **Eric:** Oh, amazing! Well done, I’m so proud of you all.

Isadora sits down next to him and exhales. It’s been a _long_ day. 

> **Isadora:** I’ve been thinking about it a lot and I’ve decided to write a letter to Zachary. 
> 
> **Eric:** Tha --
> 
> **Isadora, interrupting:** I don’t know whether I’ll send it or not, but I do think it’ll help just to get my thoughts out there.

Eric nods his agreement, and reminds her that he’ll always be there for her. Just as she starts to ask for help on what to include in the correspondence, there’s a knock at the door. Eric goes to answer it, pleasantly surprised to find Jack waiting on the other side. Although he’s happy to see him, Jack seems stressed, so Isadora gets the hint that she should probably give them some space. She wishes Jack a good night and retreats to her room, leaving them alone.

> **Eric:** Did you hear that they made the money to cover the auditorium damages? I’m honestly impressed, but I guess we should never doubt the A class.
> 
> **Jack:** Yeah… yeah, I did. From Lucas. It’s great.
> 
> **Eric:** … okay, what’s going on. You’ve got your thin voice going, how you get when something is wrong.

Jack doesn’t even bother to ask what that means -- Eric knows him well, it’s hardly a surprise at this point. He releases a strained sigh and explains what happened with Yancy, both about him sabotaging the scholarship fund from within the board and then the confrontation they had on the steps. Eric listens raptly, absorbing some of his dread with every word.

> **Eric:** That sick… I always knew there was something off about him. He’s a corporate sellout through and through -- has been since he joined the board. And he has the gall to lecture _you_ … we’ll get him for this, Jack. We just have to strategize --
> 
> **Jack:** No. No, we can’t do anything. Not right now. Not with so many things on the line.

Jack mentions the other piece of Yancy’s threat -- that he might be put on probation for real and potentially let go. Eric scoffs at this, disbelieving. Jack is well-known in the community… no way he’d get ousted. It’s an empty threat.

> **Eric:** What’ll probably happen is that if anything, they put you off contract, and the position would reopen for applicants. So all you’d have to do is apply again, and Evelyn would hand it back to you without question. Yancy is just reaching, he can’t --
> 
> **Jack:** But Evelyn isn’t the only vote that matters, Eric. If they can flip a decision on something like the scholarships… that affects the _students_ … and I don’t think he’s bluffing. I mean, he brought up Lucas, he mentioned… he mentioned you and me…

Eric shrinks a bit at this. It’s uncomfortable that someone is using their relationship as leverage, implying it’s a bad thing, but he’s also nervous about the way Jack is taking it. He knows how much he cares about AAA. He’d do anything to keep it afloat, to do what’s right for the school.

> **Eric:** So… _[ with a deep breath ]_ What do you want to do?
> 
> **Jack, softly:** Right now… I just think we need to… we need to step back. Put things on hold until the dust settles. My examination period should be over soon, and when this is all sorted, then… then maybe we can…

But for now, they can’t. There’s too much at stake… things both of them care about more than themselves. Although Eric is reluctant, he does his best to keep his emotions in check and nods along. He places a hand on Jack’s shoulder, letting it rest there for a moment. Stroking with his thumb, soaking in the touch for all it’s worth. Who knows when he’ll comfortably get to do it again.

> **Eric:** Whatever you need, Jack. I understand. _[ with difficulty ]_ I’m with you.

Jack nods, grateful. More grateful than he’ll ever know. He holds his gaze for a long moment, then leans forward and presses his lips softly to the corner of his mouth. So close, yet so far… Eric closes his eyes, trying his best not to crack.

Jack pulls back, swallowing hard. He clears his throat and nods, back to a fragile shell of professionalism.

> **Jack:** I’ll see you at school.

Eric returns the nod, but he can’t meet his eyes. Jack hesitates for a moment longer, wishing it wasn’t this way, wishing he could stay… then steps back into the hall, shutting the door behind him.

Like he was never there.

**INT. YINDRA’S CHURCH - DAY**

Charlie and Nigel are in one of the pews amidst the usual congregation of Yindra’s church, waiting for the choir following the service to begin. Charlie seems excited but nervous, liking the high spirits and jovial energy but worried he’s an imposter just like he is everywhere else. He leans over to Nigel.

> **Charlie:** I stick out like a sore thumb, don’t I?
> 
> **Nigel:** Mm, yeah. But it’s okay, _[ patting his arm ]_ you can’t help that you’re skim milk.

Thank you for that, Nigel. Charlie opens his mouth to respond, but nothing comes out, so it’s a relief when Yindra steps down front and center in her church choir robes to address the congregation. She cheerfully greets them and explains that she got to choose the song for this week, which she used to also fulfill the requirement for her art school lesson. Two birds, one stone, am I right?

Either way, she wants to dedicate the heart of this performance to her peers at school and in attendance this afternoon. She knows they’re all going through stuff, and even though it feels like the end of the world right now, it’ll all be water under the bridge one day. All they can do is take it day by day, and by the grace of God, everything will end up the way it’s meant to be.

* * *

**Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Bridge Over Troubled Water” as performed by Glee Cast || Performed by Yindra Amino**

If anyone could deliver soulful, impressive vocals to rival and honor Mercedes Jones (for those of us who _did_ watch _Glee_ , unlike the Havies), it would be Yindra Amino. And deliver she does, both in the church and on the atrium steps at AAA where she splits this performance. The rest of her choir backing her up gospel style really does add a certain something something, but the true emphasis of the number is the meaning.

_Your time has come to shine  
All your dreams are on their way  
See how they shine, oh, if you need a friend  
I'm sailing right behind_

When she makes it to the latter half and the gospel kicks off clapping to the beat, the entire congregation leaps to their feet and eagerly joins in. Charlie and Nigel are right there with them -- as is the A class in the atrium intercut of the performance.

Yindra brings it home with a spectacular vocal run, and you have to wonder if she really could make it out there in L.A. on her vocal chops alone. The church erupts into gleeful applause as she wraps up and takes a bow with the choir, beaming bright.

Charlie mirrors her smile, enthusiastically clapping along. Experiencing for an instant what it’s like to feel comfortable in church -- allowed to just be himself.

* * *

**INT. CHUBBIES - DAY**

Lucas is anxiously sitting opposite Riley in the usual booth, watching as she carefully reads over his personal essays. She’s doing her best to maintain a professional and neutral expression while she goes, but it’s impossible to hold back the slightest smile on her lips as she reaches the conclusion. When she lifts her gaze to meet his, but purposefully builds suspense by not saying anything, he cracks.

> **Lucas:** Well? They’re terrible, aren’t they? You can just say it if they are.
> 
> **Riley:** … _[ breaking into a grin ]_ They’re great, Lucas. Brilliant, honestly. Not that I ever had any doubt you could pull it off.

What a relief. Lucas exhales a sigh, thanking her for taking the time to read them. Then he continues, softly apologizing for not telling her about what happened with Brandon. Even though he had good intentions, he knows it doesn’t matter. And if he wanted so much not for her to know, then obviously it was never a good idea to begin with.

> **Riley:** You know it’s fine for you to mess up. I just don’t get why you didn’t tell me.
> 
> **Lucas:** _[ after a beat ]_ I guess I didn’t… it’s like the stupid personal essays. I know that… I’m not a shining example of a good person. I don’t think that’s exactly a secret.
> 
> **Riley:** I don’t think that.
> 
> **Lucas:** I know. I know you don’t, and I think that’s why I didn’t want you to know. Because it’s like every thing I do that shows you that, the more you realize that I’m… less than ideal, then…

Riley tilts her head, giving him a sympathetic look. Then she gets up and comes to join him on his side of the booth, sliding in next to him and leaning forward a bit so he’ll meet her gaze.

> **Riley:** I told you that I wanted a relationship with you, and I meant it. And that’s _all_ of you -- everything, the good _and_ the bad. Even if you make a mistake, or I get disappointed, it doesn’t change that. We’ll find a way to work it out. I want _you_.

Her way with words makes everything sound so easy, so simple… and maybe it is. Maybe it can be just as simple as wanting each other, loving each other, and making it work. Lucas absorbs the sentiment, smiling shyly and thanking her again.

Hard part out of the way, Riley asks him how he managed to break his writer’s block and write those killer essays. What was his secret? Lucas hums, thinking about it.

> **Lucas:** It was kind of what you said. You know, changing my perspective. When I was trying to write it from my lens, it was… well, you know. But then I just tried to think… what would Riley say? If someone asked you about me. And when I thought about it like that, I don’t know… suddenly, it was easy.

Riley chews her lip, smile blossoming on her face. She pulls him into a gentle kiss, one that he returns before swiftly stealing another one. She nudges her forehead against his, fondness shining in her eyes as she looks at him.

It’s no mystery how thinking like her made for some unbeatable work.

> **Billy, pre-lap:** I knew it. I knew he wasn’t loyal.

**INT. HAVERFORD PREP - SENIOR LOUNGE - DAY**

Dweezil’s phone is sitting on the tabletop, open to the Adams social media page. Displayed are a handful of photos Yogi took during the ‘70s dance… including one clearly featuring Charlie, dancing with Haley and Clarissa. Although it looks like he’s having a swell time, Billy and Dweezil don’t seem happy for their classmate at all.

> **Dweezil:** He’s never really jumped ship. We know he’s always hanging out with Riley anyway. This is just definitive proof.
> 
> **Billy:** Showdown is in a week. If he’s still this comfortable with his old chums, who knows how much shit he’s telling them.
> 
> **Dweezil:** And what if he finds out about the plan? No way he’s going to let us do it.
> 
> **Billy:** I say we take care of this now. _Before_ it interferes with our performance.
> 
> **Dweezil:** He might blow everything.
> 
> **Billy:** Brandon. You have to have an opinion on this shit.

Opposite them and seated at the table, Brandon is examining the photograph for himself. He’s unperturbed as usual, thoughtful and contemplative. He doesn’t comment until Billy and Dweezil basically demand input from him, at which point he offers a calm smile.

> **Brandon:** It’s nice to see him enjoying himself, isn’t it? I like Charles. He’s a nice kid. _[ a beat, then suavely ]_ And a coward.

Brandon gingerly places Dweezil’s phone back on the desk, reclining back in his chair.

> **Brandon:** I’m not worried about him.
> 
> **Billy:** Man, you’re kidding --
> 
> **Dweezil:** And what if he decides to --
> 
> **Brandon:** Don’t you get it? He’s not going to _do_ anything. If there’s one thing you can count on with Charles, it’s that he’s spineless. He’s not feeding them information, and even if he _does_ take offense to something we do, he isn’t going to do shit. Gardner is soft, and he’s the least of our worries. But in a week it’s not even going to matter. Especially not when we’ve got this.

Brandon retrieves the flash drive from his blazer pocket, placing it on the table between them. Billy and Dweezil eye it with interest -- they all clearly know what it contains.

> **Brandon:** Once we crack into this, it’s over. We’re going to crush Adams like we do every year -- whether Charles helps or not.

**INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY**

Ah, to be back in the warm embrace of the auditorium -- even if it’s still a bit banged up. It’ll take a little while longer to get the auditorium back in tip-top shape, but the A class can at least come home to roost in it again, which is where they gather for the kick off the next week.

All of them give a round of applause to Harley for his assistance in repairing their mistakes, and hope that he enjoyed the performances of the last few days. He assures them he did, though as he understands it, the week isn’t quite over yet. He steps back and allows Jade to take front and center.

She thanks all of them for being patient with her while she finished up her portfolio materials, and at this point she only has one more request. Behind her, Dave and Dylan roll out the racks with her ‘70s portfolio costumes, and she explains that she needs models to pose for the photographs she’s going to include in her application of all her hard work. Now hm… where on Earth is she going to find suitable, available models for free who she just happened to know all the measurements of and would fit perfectly into these custom costumes…

* * *

**Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Shake Your Booty” as performed by Forever In Your Mind || Performed by AAA Seniors**

Riley beams, claiming she thinks she knows where they could find a few volunteers. The A class launches to their feet, rushing the stage to see what Jade has in store.

**INT. AAA - BOYS DRESSING ROOM - DAY**

The boys kick off this energetic, bopping closing number, changing into their Jade ‘70s ensembles and grooving in the dressing room. Sliding through the wall --

**INT. AAA - GIRLS DRESSING ROOM - DAY**

The girls are doing the same, fluffing their hair and doing each other’s make up as they sing into the mirrors. Once they’re all set, Yindra leads the way out into the dressing room hall…

**INT. AAA - DRESSING ROOM HALL - DAY**

Where they meet up with the boys, strutting in their fierce, authentically ‘70s looks. They make a mad dash for the auditorium --

**INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY**

And reclaim their stage, breaking into disco grooves as they toss around solo lines and show off their outfits. Jade stands with Yogi and helps him direct the costume shoot, both of them dressed up as well with Jade sporting the stereotypical but Jade-infused bohemian flower power girl look with a flowy white dress with puffy sleeves and a leather headband laced with wildflowers.

On the bridge, we get a montage of all of the A class posing in their outfits as they dance to get their pictures taken. This highlights not only how much we love this silly crop of seniors, but also how fantastic and individualized Jade’s costumes truly are. Paired with the earnest and jubilant performance, it’s a truly lovable showing.

Then they bring it on home with a disco line dance, all breaking into the same groovy choreography and all in their ‘70s garb. Zay watches from the audience with Lucas and the faculty, for once seemingly not in despair over being benched and still getting a custom outfit of his own. Dylan and Asher are front and center, and they pull Jade into it on the last few lines, so she also gets her boogie in before the day is done.

If one thing is clear, it’s that disco is _far_ from dead, thank you very much! And while the A class has a lot on their plates -- and insurmountable stakes ahead -- it’s hard not to feel hopeful when they’ve got each other.

Whether that’s enough, well, soon we’ll find out.

_**END OF EPISODE.** _


	11. Moment of Truth [ 3.08 ]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SHOWDOWN – Adams and Haverford go head-to-head at the senior showdown finals. The A class scrambles when their polished routine is thrown into jeopardy, and Riley takes control. Charlie makes difficult decisions, culminating in a major confession.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ( Follow along with the music on Spotify [here](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/17qHHA7v0GQbxmmKZa10Hv?si=-1x_9vv1RySKFUuJcEfY_g)! )

**EXT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY**

We launch into the episode, the midseason finale, with focus on Riley’s inspiration board. It not only has the same old stuff from the last couple of seasons but now is updated with new mementos and charming keepsakes -- photos of her and friends (at least one for each bestie), a program from semis and _West Side Story_ , a snapshot of Susan Egan as Belle on Broadway, brochures for NYU and Barnard, _plenty_ of photos of Lucas.

Then we drift down, finding RILEY MATTHEWS settled in the bay window seat beneath it. She’s got her laptop on her lap, hair braided over both shoulders, and gaze focused as she takes a deep breath and then definitively hits her mousepad.

On the laptop screen, the webpage changes, showing a confirmation page on the college common application. _Congratulations! Your application has been submitted._ When she clicks back to the home page, we see it’s not the only one -- she’s got half a dozen applications officially done and squared away. The only one left hanging is NYU, shooting for the Tisch performing arts program still an uncertain shot.

But otherwise, she’s done. She lets out a pronounced exhale, lifting her head to look at the camera. Not only is her relief palpable, there’s something else shining in her eyes -- excitement. Yes, it’s daunting, but now the future is out there waiting for her.

Optimistic opening tones kick in, setting us truly into motion as Riley pushes her laptop off her lap and jumps to her feet.

* * *

**Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Love It Or Leave It” as performed by Tess Henley || Performed by Riley Matthews**

Riley’s vocals are easy and carefree as she steps into the performance, dancing around her bedroom in victory for finally being free of applications. She spins and stops in front of her whiteboard, crossing the task off her list with a flourish. When she steps away and out of frame, the writing left behind reminds us just what’s at stake this week.

_SENIOR SHOWDOWN FINALS!!_

It’s all come down to this moment, and all things considered, Riley seems in good spirits. She continues her energetic singing and grabs her backpack, slinging it over her shoulder as she climbs out the bay window…

**EXT. NEW YORK STREETS - DAY**

And onto the streets of her city, taking her sunshine optimism on the road. She continues through the first chorus as she dances along the walk to school, interspersing her commute with skips, slides, and even a few ballet movements and twirls. She deftly avoids other passersby and sends smiles around selflessly, not letting anything tamper her bright mood.

**INT. MINKUS HOME - FARKLE’S BEDROOM - DAY**

Not everyone is in quite the same high spirit, however. FARKLE MINKUS finishes submitting his last application, to University of Southern California in Los Angeles. He hovers for a moment before hitting submit, then goes back to his email inbox, where an unread email from his therapist is waiting for him. Just from the preview of the email, we can tell that she’s reaching out to check in with him after what happened last week when he suddenly left their appointment.

_Any new diagnosis can be scary, but…_

Farkle can’t look at it right now. He closes his laptop, taking a deep, centering breath and trying to get back in the zone. This is the week where he has to have it together. This is not the week to be less than perfect.

Looking for a boost of confidence, he reaches into his closet and pulls out his infamous blazer. If there were ever a moment to channel the old him, now would be the time. He pulls his arms through the sleeves, adjusting it on his shoulders and absorbing its energy.

Then he heads out, holding his chin high.

**INT. BABINEAUX HOME - ZAY’S BEDROOM - DAY**

ZAY BABINEAUX could probably use some of that confidence too. He’s also looking at his applications. Only one remains unsent -- his one for Turner Academy. As much as he’s dying to go there, with how everything has changed, he can’t bring himself to hit submit.

And this morning won’t be when he does. He runs from it yet again, shutting his laptop.

**INT. GARDNER HOME - CHARLIE’S BEDROOM - DAY**

CHARLIE GARDNER, on the other hand, has had no trouble submitting his applications. He’s just wrapping up sending in the last one, this one to the prestigious Princeton University. When you look at his full list of submitted apps, they’re all names like that -- Harvard, Yale, Brown, Columbia. Only a couple of others vary in focus, a couple of dance programs peppered in for flavor.

And yet, he seems nonplussed about all of them. In fact, he doesn’t seem to feel much of anything, detached from his college prospects. Like they don’t even belong to him -- and certainly not indicative of anything he _wants_. Hard to be, when he doesn’t even know what that is for himself.

He clicks back to the home page, glimpsing over his application one more time. One question on the common application seems to be glaring at him.

_Tell us who you are._

Charlie glares back. It’s a wonder when the time will come to truly answer it…

**INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY**

Riley takes back control of the narrative, diving into the chorus again with a spring in her step. Some of her other peers feed off her positive energy, like YINDRA AMINO and JEFF MONROE, who dance around her as she passes them in the hall.

She makes her way to the dressing room hall and pushes through the doors…

**INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY**

And spins her way into the wings of the auditorium, back in top-tier shape after the debacles last episode. But the true heft of the lyrics don’t land until she sets her sights on something across the stage, that excited glimmer even brighter in her eyes.

LUCAS JAMES FRIAR. Clear to her through the clutter of her other classmates congregating on the stage, as if he’s spotlighted in her eyes. He’s working on discussing something for showdown with ASHER GARCIA and JADE BEAMON, but after a moment he lifts his gaze and locks eyes with her. Naturally, a small smile ghosts over his lips.

Riley bounces back into the rhythm, pulled in his direction like gravity.

_Forgive me but I know what, I know what I want!_

She weaves her way through others, skillfully dancing her way through the obstacles, only stumbling when she finally makes it to the other side of the stage. She basically collapses into Lucas, who catches her and steadies her upright, keeping her on her feet. Support and pseudo-choreography all at once.

Riley looks over her shoulder to grin at him, then spins so she’s facing him.

_Sometimes I get the feeling I just can’t help myself…_

She pulls him towards her and back out of the wings, actually managing to drag him along in half a dance for a good chunk of the remaining chorus. It’s no mystery where at least half of her good mood comes from, with the way she’s unable to stop smiling as she sings to him and twirls under his arm.

When she twirls away he lets her go, allowing her to traverse the stage freely for the rest of the number. As she’s finishing her cheerful solo, the rest of the A class makes their way onto the stage around her, all in rehearsal clothes.

* * *

Riley finally comes to a stop as the music peters out, finding her place in the dance lines and standing ready to move. The camera rotates around her, showing off the rest of the seniors also ready to roll, then panning to Lucas, Jeff, and Zay standing at the front of the stage with ERIC MATTHEWS, HARPER BURGESS, and MAYA HART.

And it’s Maya who takes over from there. She steps forward, clapping her hands together, and shatters the hopeful vibe with ease.

> **Maya:** Alright, countrymen, get ready to have your ass kicked for the next five days. Showdown is Saturday, and I will be damned and cast to Hell if Haverford Shlep beats us for the seventh bloody year in a row. _This is not amateur hour._ And with God as my witness -- if you’re into that sort of thing -- we are going full fire and burning this showdown to the ground. _[ lifting her bullhorn ]_ On your marks! And five, six, seven --

**_Cue title sequence._ **

**INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY**

We’re in the darkness of the wings, though we can still see most of the class doing run-throughs of their setlist and hear Maya clapping and shouting commands in the background. We’re looking through the lens of NICK YOGI’s camera, who has it facing towards himself. He speaks in a whisper, trying not to get targeted by Maya.

> **Yogi:** So, AAA thotties, here’s where we’re at. After a wild semester, senior showdown is finally upon us, and the A class has been in better straits. A shit ton has happened to get us where we are now, so before I continue on with capturing all the magic and whimsy of showdown preparations --
> 
> **Maya, off-screen:** Is that what you call a kick-ball-change, Chey? When we lose on Saturday, I’m blaming it all on your kick-ball-change. Let’s go again!
> 
> **Yogi:** Dave and I thought it might be smart to quickly recap how exactly we ended up in this mess.

**INT. AAA - A/V CLUB STUDIO - DAY**

Obviously filmed as an earlier segment, the camera now focuses on DAVE WILLIAMS casually seated at the news desk across from wherever Yogi is set up. The footage is far from polished, shot more like a documentary, and it’s not clear whether Dave realizes they’re filming or if he thinks they’re just shooting the shit. He’s not looking at the camera, eyes directed at his best friend off-screen.

> **Dave:** It’s so crazy, man. Like, I feel like it all started when Charlie left Triple A.
> 
> **Yogi:** Oh?
> 
> **Dave:** Yeah, dude. ‘Cause like, who even cared about Haverford before that, you know? Like, they sucked or whatever, but no one really gave a shit. We knew we’d have to face them with showdown, but the moment Charlie jumped ship it’s like it got all personal. Like he defected to the dark side, and so suddenly we had to _know_ the dark side. You know, like that blonde bitch from _Camp Rock_ and Camp Star which didn’t even exist until they needed a rival and suddenly it had all these important characters in it.
> 
> **Yogi, trying not to laugh:** For sure.
> 
> **Dave:** And the thing is like -- I don’t know if we really told him enough when he was like, actually here, but -- Charlie is good. He was one of our best performers, or at least most reliable, and between him and Zay it’s like we had a monopoly on dance. Hotels on that shit. Showdown felt pretty assured, because when you’ve got dudes who can dance like that, I mean, what was anyone even gonna do to top it? But then Charlie transfers, that juice gets drained by half, and the rest of the dominoes fall.
> 
> **Yogi:** Uh huh. Go on.
> 
> **Dave:** And TBH, I feel like that was part of another thing too -- what happened to Zay. Because everyone knows he went like _mega_ -diva earlier this year, and he didn’t used to be like that. I don’t know if anyone else noticed, but I feel like he and Charlie were close? Best friends, really, which makes sense, since they’re like bonded by dance and stuff. And so when Charlie left I feel like that just totally… like knocked him flat, and made him go all haywire, and all that is what led to him going nuts and never taking a break and fucking up his leg.
> 
> **Yogi:** That’s an interesting take. The way you connect the dots amazes me.
> 
> **Dave, earnest:** But like, look dude, I totally get it. It’s like, I think about if _you_ left Triple A all the sudden and just left me behind. I’d be bummed as fuck. Like I wouldn’t even wanna be at this stupid school anymore. I think Zay is way tougher than I’ll ever be.
> 
> **Yogi:** Wow… that was so sweet. _[ sniffling theatrically ]_ I just need a moment --

The tape cuts quickly, still at the same angle, but indicating a lapse in filming.

> **Yogi:** Would you really wanna not stay at Triple A?
> 
> **Dave:** Why would I, if you’re not here to make it fun?
> 
> **Yogi:** What about Lucas?
> 
> **Dave:** Oh yeah… okay, I’d probably stay. But it wouldn’t be the same.
> 
> **Yogi, amused:** That makes more sense.

The tape cuts again, this time Dave having changed positions. He’s sitting slouched in the chair with one of his entire legs propped up on the table in front of him -- i.e., like a weirdo boy who can’t sit normally.

> **Yogi:** So Zay gets fucked up.
> 
> **Dave:** Zay gets hurt, and that’s a major blow. I mean, there’s where we’re at right now, trying to figure out some bizarro way to replace him. But he was a _huge_ part of the original routine, so now we’re like trying to put a band-aid over a bazooka hole. Then all the money stuff added on top of that which totally distracted us for way more time than we can spare. Not being able to be in the auditorium wasn’t good either.
> 
> **Yogi:** Nope.
> 
> **Dave:** Then with Dora’s mom dying, that like knocked her out of the ring. Which is bad, because Dora is like our tiny, terrifying WWE fighter. A little secret weapon. But like, RIP Valerie and all that.
> 
> **Yogi:** Rest easy, queen.
> 
> **Dave:** But we need the win. Lucas needs it to give scholarships to all the destitute future AAA thotties, and I really feel like if we lose, Maya is going to go full _Carrie_. But with everyone all wigged over college apps and stuff, and the legacy of six years of Ls hanging over us… it’s not looking good, chief. I wouldn’t say that out there for risk of getting shanked by Maya’s stiletto, but a good reporter tells the truth.
> 
> **Yogi:** Right you are. So if you could say one thing to us for later, win or lose, what say you, Dave?
> 
> **Dave:** Well, I’d say “good luck, Charlie,” but as I just said, Charlie is gone. And he’s with the enemy, so I can’t give him any luck.
> 
> **Yogi:** No. How about “good luck, Davie?”
> 
> **Dave:** _[ looking miserably at the camera, which zooms in ]_ Good luck, Davie.

**INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY**

Back in the present, Yogi whispers a thanks to his best correspondent, Dave Williams, before throwing attention back to rehearsal.

> **Yogi:** Time to see if we can salvage this L.

For a while, we stay with the camera perspective, Yogi stepping through the rows of his classmates to capture footage. Most of them toss him dirty looks or nearly bump into him, and SARAH CARLSON gives him an especially unimpressed glare when he gets up close to her.

> **Sarah:** Aren’t you supposed to be rehearsing?
> 
> **Haley, off-screen:** Can we not have cameras rolling while we’re trying not to crash and burn this week?
> 
> **Nate, off-screen:** Oh, no, Yogi. Run. Yogi, _run_ \--

Yogi whips around, coming lens-to-face with a very haughty Maya. She narrows her eyes.

> **Yogi:** Oh, Neptune…

The camera cuts to black.

Back in our usual frame, Maya snaps the camera shut, pointing for him to get back to his place in formation. He snatches his device back, holding his head high as he marches back to his spot.

> **Yogi:** Just trying to preserve the memories. You all will thank me someday when you want to relive these moments.
> 
> **Zay:** I don’t want to live them now.

Maya snaps for them to run it again, moving back to the front of the stage. She claps them in, running the “Rain On Me” choreography beat-by-beat without vocals. Although the moves are still sharp, it just doesn’t feel as coherent without Zay, since the number was built with him in mind. And something just feels… off. Stale. Like we’ve seen it all before.

And distracted minds don’t help. Even with his blazer, Farkle can’t just magically return to top form, so he’s a couple steps behind. His uneasiness creates a ripple effect, those around him adjusting to avoid his missteps and just making ones of their own, until the whole ensemble is out of sync and lost. Maya growls, ceasing her clapping and holding her hands out to stop.

> **Maya:** Come on, people! This whole thing is falling apart before my very eyes. Do not lose your heads now!
> 
> **Lucas:** Maybe it would help to not have a manic pixie nightmare girl screeching at them.
> 
> **Maya:** _[ holding up a finger, not looking at him ]_ Didn’t ask you. Again, from the top! Five, six --

**INT. HAVERFORD PREP - AUDITORIUM - DAY**

BRANDON RIVAS is in the same role as Maya, clapping them through the choreography of “Seize the Day.”

> **Brandon:** Seven, eight!

Unfortunately (for Adams), the boys are in much better shape. Their synchronization and energy are as sharp as ever, and they’re even back in full dress to work with the costumes. The only thing putting a dent in their perfect rendition is the fact that it seems they’ve introduced some new choreography here and there, Brandon correcting one or two peers while they perform.

Charlie is keeping up easily, but he admittedly seems put off by the changed details. His brow is furrowed as they run through the last pieces of the sequence, eyeing his classmates as they work to adjust their understanding of the number.

When they finish they hold their pose until Brandon signals for them to be at ease, launching into notes. He reminds them that they should put their vocal focus this week behind the new harmonies they’re learning for the middle piece in their setlist -- they’ve swapped it out for something different for finals.

Charlie fidgets until he works up the nerve to raise his hand, waiting for Brandon to acknowledge him. He does, raising his eyebrows at him, and Charlie clears his throat.

> **Charlie:** Is there a reason we’re changing so much stuff? I thought the original choreo for the dance break in _Newsies_ was fine. The judges liked it during semis.
> 
> **Billy:** Duh, of course you like it, Gardner. It’s your choreography.

The comment is said playfully, but there’s just the slightest of edges to it that BILLY ROSS doesn’t conceal. A few of the other Havies chuckle at this, but Charlie persists, trying not to let himself be deterred.

> **Charlie:** And a whole new song for the middle? What was wrong with “Would You Mind?”
> 
> **Dweezil:** Does something have to be wrong to be improved?
> 
> **Charlie:** No, I’m only wondering --
> 
> **Brandon:** It’s fine, Charles. I get it. _[ to the group ]_ Charles wants to know why we’re putting the effort into changing things around when the routines we’ve established have worked for us so far. Is that right?

Charlie pauses, then nods. Close enough. Brandon returns the nod, keeping cool as he paces in front of the boys.

> **Brandon:** I don’t fault you for that. It’s a natural instinct. Stick to what you know, what you know works. Safer that way. _[ a beat ]_ But safe doesn’t win showdown. We need to stay alert, fresh, open to the possibilities. We’ve been doing it for six years, and I believe we’re going to score a seventh. That means being flexible, assessing opportunities for growth and stretching to reach them.

Nice speech, one that Brandon delivers seamlessly. Charlie accepts it, but something about it is still itching at him. Maybe he really is just intrinsically averse to pushing the envelope…

> **Brandon:** As for why we cut the pop middle, strategic maneuver. I just thought something more… classic might better highlight our strengths. Show the ways we stand out against the competition. That’s all. So, if question time has concluded, let’s get in places for “Brotherhood.”

The Havies move swiftly, shifting positions. Charlie follows suit, taking his place behind Brandon, but his expression is still contemplative as they count into the showstopper.

**INT. AAA - GIRLS DRESSING ROOM - DAY**

Maya finds ISADORA DE LA CRUZ in the dressing room, marching up to her at the mirrors and cutting right to the point.

> **Maya:** Okay, we are in meltdown mode out there, so the time has come. Izzy, you need to square up and join rank. It’s time to get back out there.

For what it’s worth, Isadora doesn’t seem surprised. She’s known this was coming for a while now, Maya’s ability to leave her be cracking every day.

> **Isadora:** It’s not that I haven’t thought about it.
> 
> **Maya:** Perfect. There you go then. It’s a sign. So get your jazz shoes on and let’s go.
> 
> **Isadora:** But I’m not at the same level as you all. Maybe I was getting there with the singing last year, but I’m way out of practice now, and I was _never_ there with my dancing. We’re trying to win, and I’ll be lucky if I can get on stage without passing out.
> 
> **Maya:** Please, if Garcia can do it when he’s prone to collapse like an anemic Weeble Wobble, you’ll be fine.
> 
> **Isadora:** But we don’t know that. There’s no guarantee. Even if I want to help, is it really worth risking me fucking it all up? Just for a little extra oomph from someone who is average at best?

Maya snaps, shaking her head and gripping Isadora’s shoulders. Isadora flinches slightly, but she’s used to Maya at this point, so she can get away with the aggressive touch in a time of great consequence. Maya insists that Isadora is way too in her own head -- she was fantastic before, and she will be fantastic now. Talent doesn’t just disappear.

> **Maya:** You have royal blood running through those veins of yours. Bona fide, liquified star power, the real deal. I know it hurts that your mom isn’t here to foster that -- believe me, I know how it feels -- but _you’re_ still here. You are her legacy, and this is your birthright. So it’s time to claim it!

* * *

**Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Born For This” as performed by Paramore || Performed by Maya Hart & Isadora De La Cruz**

Maya launches into the rambunctious early Paramore hit, appealing to Isadora in a language both of them know -- angry, empowering, female-led punk rock. It’s the artist that first bonded them, after all, so it’s the best she can offer in a last pitch to get her to come around. As she sings through the first verse she climbs up onto the countertop, strutting along it and hitting strong poses, before leaping back down in front of Isadora.

As she hits the pre-chorus, she leans in close to Isadora, challenging her with her body language to fight back or take the risk to meet her at her level. Then she takes her hand, leading her out of the dressing room --

**INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY**

And into the halls for the chorus, Maya jumping and head-banging as she goes. Isadora jogs to keep up, taking over on the second verse as other AAA students begin to join in as the echo. Maya leads them, matching her movements in response to Isadora’s sing-shouting. Then they all create a rocking crowd formation for the chorus again, similar to when the techies took the halls with “Thnks Fr Th Mmrs,” sharply bouncing and dancing their way to the intense music and following the lead of Isadora and Maya, standing side by side at the front of the pack.

**INT. AAA - CAFETERIA - DAY**

Then the mob descends on the cafeteria, finding most of the remaining Adams students. Maya and Isadora take over the lunch room, rallying students at their tables and heightening the energy across the board.

Maya hops up onto a table and pulls Isadora with her, gathering the students around them. This is where they lead the “ _We! Were! Born For This!”_ chant, getting the others to echo their declarations. When they escalate up to the belt at the end of the bridge, they stand back to back, Maya leaning her head back theatrically and shouting the note to the ceiling.

_Everybody sing!_

The cafeteria has become a full-on rock concert, other students jumping onto the tables and getting into the spirit. Maya has a knack for turning lunch time into a spectacle, and this is no exception. The school rock-and-rolls their way to the end, where they all break into hollers and cheers. Maya turns to face Isadora again where they’re standing on the center table, quirking an eyebrow. _Well?_

Isadora catches her breath… then grins, clasping her hand with Maya’s. Officially on board.

* * *

**INT. AAA - GIRLS DRESSING ROOM - DAY**

Back in the dressing room and now part of the team officially, Isadora seeks out CHAI FRESCO. She strikes up conversation as Chai is arranging their semis costumes on the rack, asking if she has a second. Since she’s now joining the performance, Isadora knows she needs to brush up on her dancing. And well, it’s a lot to learn in a short amount of time…

> **Isadora:** Though it kills me to admit it, I know I’m going to need help. I was wondering if you would be willing to stay later with me each day and run through it until I get it down.
> 
> **Chai:** Really? You want _me_?
> 
> **Isadora:** Honestly, my first thought was Maya, but you’ve seen how she is lately. She is so stressed out over this, I know she won’t have time, and I think she might actually murder me for slow uptake. But her aside… you are the best dancer we have in the A class. Maya would also kill me for saying that.
> 
> **Chai, touched:** … well, thanks. Most people don’t really notice.
> 
> **Isadora:** Not everyone.

Yes, clearly not everyone… either way, Chai is flattered. She agrees to tutor Isadora, assuring her that no matter the choreo, they’ll get her up to snuff in no time. Nothing to freak out over.

**INT. AAA - BOYS DRESSING ROOM - DAY**

Farkle’s blazer has been discarded on the floor, bold callback abandoned. Farkle has folded himself into a protective position on the countertop, avoiding the mirror next to him as he tries to calm down from what feels like an impending panic attack. His hands are shaking as he pulls his sweater over his head, down to just his plain tee but still feeling hot.

Riley pokes her head in, commenting that she finally found him. She’s been looking for him before they go do another run-through… then she notices his shaky state, immediately shifting from friendly to concerned. She rushes over to him, asking what’s going on and if he’s okay.

> **Farkle:** I tried. I really tried, Riley, I tried to just work through it --
> 
> **Riley:** What? Work through what?
> 
> **Farkle:** But I can’t. I’m just -- I’m not myself. I don’t even know what myself is right now.

When she prods him once again, he cracks and spills everything about what happened with his therapist. About his new diagnosis, about being bipolar. He knows it doesn’t actually mean anything, or maybe it actually means clarity, but right now it just feels like too much. So much he doesn’t understand, like having to relearn a whole new identity. Riley does her best to keep up, frowning as Farkle grows flushed and chokes up.

> **Riley:** It’s okay, Farkle. You’re not… I mean, millions of people are bipolar, and they get through it. They figure it out. You’ll figure it out, too, especially since you’ve got top-rate care and the best people to help.
> 
> **Farkle:** I know. _[ huffing and wiping his eyes ]_ I know, it’s silly for me to be freaked. I know it doesn’t really change me, it’s just a label for what I already am. But it just feels like… I don’t know. _[ voice cracking ]_ Like I’m even more to deal with than I was before.

Riley doesn’t know what to say -- she’s not a therapist -- so all she can do is offer comfort. She steps closer and wraps him in a hug, Farkle returning the embrace tightly. They just hold each other for a few moments.

> **Riley:** Farkle, you have always been unique. Uniquely a challenge, but uniquely wonderful, too. Both are some of my favorite things about you. And more than that, you are damningly resilient. _[ pulling back to look at him ]_ You will rise above this too. And it’s not like you have to do it alone, you know that we’re going to have your back every step of the journey.
> 
> **Farkle:** Yeah… yeah, you’re right. Thanks.

He leans forward for another quick hug, which she happily gives him. When they break apart again, Farkle releases a heavy exhale.

> **Farkle:** But Riley, with all this going on… I don’t think I can do it. Showdown. I don’t want to drop out of the performance, but I can’t carry it the way I did for semis. I want to, and I know Maya is going to lose her shit if I don’t, but I just don’t think I can handle it right now.

He’s right about one thing -- Maya is going to flip. Right after she collects one advantage, another domino falls… but Riley understands. Of course she does. She pats his shoulder, giving him the bravest smile she can muster.

> **Riley:** It’s fine. We’ll still have your star power in our ranks, and we’ll find a way to rearrange. You need to do what’s best for you.
> 
> **Farkle:** Yeah. Yeah, I hope.
> 
> **Riley:** Everything is going to be fine. Don’t worry.

**INT. AAA - TECHNICIAN’S BOOTH - DAY**

Riley reports directly to Lucas and DYLAN ORLANDO, soothing smiles long gone.

> **Riley:** It’s time to worry.

She relays to them that Farkle is stepping down without divulging the details, keeping it simple by explaining he’s not doing well at the moment. It’s lucky that they’ll still have him in the ensemble, but this is just another body blow that she’s not sure their team can take.

> **Riley:** With Farkle off the table, our routine is basically on life support. That’s two out of three of the main vocalists on “4 Minutes” out, and “Rain On Me” isn’t doing so hot either. We can move Nigel up to take Farkle’s role -- which we should, he’s severely underutilized at present -- but even then we’re still lacking major male stage presence.
> 
> **Lucas:** Not great considering Haverford is all testosterone.
> 
> **Dylan:** When you say it like that, it sounds so awful. _All_ testosterone… I can’t believe that’s something our society idolizes.
> 
> **Lucas:** You’re gay.
> 
> **Dylan:** And? I like men, not hormones. It’s not like when I kiss Asher I’m thinking about his sexy cortisol levels.

Riley gets them back on track, reiterating the problem. With their arrangement the way it is right now -- head count and track list -- they’re royally fucked. Dylan and Lucas concur, agreeing that they’re going to need to find some additional male star power to fill the gaps Farkle is leaving behind.

Now where are they going to find that… Dylan glances around them, as if something is missing, and arrives at the obvious answer at the same time as Riley and Lucas. They all exchange a look, tacitly acknowledging exactly who their saving grace should be.

**INT. AAA - PROP LOFT - DAY**

Convincing that saving grace, well, that’s another story.

> **Asher:** _No_.

Asher turns away from Lucas and Dylan, both having just pitched the idea to him. He continues to shake his head adamantly even as they scramble to appeal to his better angels, avoiding eye contact by aimlessly shifting around props on the shelves.

> **Lucas:** We’re running out of options --
> 
> **Dylan:** You’re the best damn performer in this school --
> 
> **Lucas:** We’re literally running on empty right now --
> 
> **Dylan:** No, the best performer in the whole _state_ \--
> 
> **Lucas:** This whole thing is about to go spectacularly to shit, and you’re really going to sit there and do nothing?
> 
> **Asher:** _[ holding up a finger ]_ Don’t guilt trip me.
> 
> **Lucas:** Well what else am I supposed to do, Asher, when we’re standing on the precipice of total annihilation and you won’t even consider stepping in to save us? When we lose and my political agenda to improve the status and future of Adams itself goes down the tubes, there will be no one left to blame but the secretary who didn’t show up.
> 
> **Asher:** You are so dramatic. Hell, _you_ go up there and take the spot. You can at least match Farkle for theatrics.
> 
> **Dylan:** Come on, Ash! You learn fast, and everyone knows you’ve got talent. You performed during comfort zone week.
> 
> **Asher:** Yes, specifically because it was _outside_ my comfort zone. Hence, the assignment being referred to as “comfort zone week.” And there were consequences if I didn’t. There were grades involved. There was pressure.
> 
> **Lucas:** There’s pressure now. Me. I’m pressuring you to do it.
> 
> **Dylan:** And also last week. Remember “Boogie Shoes?” It was fun!
> 
> **Asher:** A performance for convenience’s sake. Very low stakes. And I was doing it with you. That’s different.
> 
> **Lucas:** So why can’t you do it again now, for convenience’s sake, when the team needs you? Can’t you just, I don’t know, go feral for a week and unleash it all and then we’ll all move on? Just do it, spaghetti!

Asher scowls and narrows his eyes, pointedly dropping the prop he was moving back on the shelf. He whips around to face them again as he responds, escalating in pitch as the words tumble out.

> **Asher:** How many times do I have to tell you that _I HAVE ANXIETY!!_

Well, Lucas wanted feral Asher, and boy does he get him. Lucas and Dylan both go quiet as Asher spirals into a deliciously lively spiel about how anxiety works, and no he cannot just turn it off for “convenience sake,” and you Lucas James Friar really have no conception of how other people’s feelings work, not to mention the fact that even if he did think he could keep up with the performers for this it will be in front of a huge audience, which is a big fat automatic no. It’s not that he doesn’t want to help, or be a team player, of course he does, all he ever does is try to be a team player, that’s like his whole life playbook, but sometimes they all ask just a little too much of him! Sometimes he has to put his foot down and say no! Although it’s quite an impressive monologue, the whole thing kind of has a ridiculous comedic hue to it.

> **Asher:** So no, I am not brain dead enough to act like I’m good enough to step into the showdown setlist. I would pass out the moment I hit the stage, and I think if I have to learn all that in five days I’ll break out in hives, and if I have to work with Maya Hart I swear to God I _will_ pitch myself off the catwalk. So read my lips. No. No! Nay! Negatory!
> 
> **Dylan, under his breath:** Thesaurus bonus.
> 
> **Asher:** I will absolutely not perform in that sinking ship that is showdown. And there is nothing -- _nada_! -- you could possibly do or say that will make me change my mind.

Asher exhales a huff, raising his eyebrows and daring them to challenge him on it. Lucas and Dylan blink, exchanging a look out of the corner of their eyes. Then they glance back to Asher, perhaps at a stalemate…

Then Dylan smiles.

**INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY**

**Song Cue ♫ ♪ “4 Minutes” as performed by Glee Cast || Instrumental**

The horns blare, signaling that we’re on a roll again -- and Asher is in Farkle’s spot. He spins around to reveal him amidst the performers, looking overwhelmed and reluctant, but doing his best to keep up with the new choreography as Maya continues to clap out the beat.

So much for no way, Jose! In the wings, Lucas and Dylan watch smugly, victorious. Lucas shakes his head at the ridiculousness of the whole thing.

> **Lucas:** And he calls me dramatic. What sort of threat did you have to throw at him to get him to cave?
> 
> **Dylan:** _[ with a sly smile ]_ Who said anything about a _threat_ …

They exchange another side glance, Dylan’s smile widening. He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively, and Lucas rolls his eyes.

But while Isadora and Asher fill out much needed lapses in captivating stage presence, “4 Minutes” is a _disaster_ with them in the ensemble -- let alone trying to fill the shoes of such different performers. It just doesn’t work for this new combination of people, and it doesn’t take long for Maya to shut it down and declare the run-through a failure.

> **Maya:** Though who is surprised, considering the no-meat chicken legs we’ve subbed in for Farkle.
> 
> **Dylan:** Oh boy.
> 
> **Asher:** I’m sorry, Maya, did you see anyone else chomping at the bit to join this trainwreck. No? I wonder why… maybe because they didn’t want to be yelled at by _Tyrant Barbie_.
> 
> **Maya:** Deflect all you want, Garcia. It’s not my fault your chicken legs can’t keep up.
> 
> **Asher:** Oh, say that _again_. I dare you. Say it again.
> 
> **Maya:** _[ into her bullhorn ]_ Cluck. Cluck.
> 
> **Asher:** Okay, _that’s_ it --

Tensions are already high, and Asher and Maya are the perfect gasoline to set it all on fire. Dylan and Lucas dart out of the wings just as Riley and Isadora dart between Maya and Asher, nudging them towards opposite sides of the stage. Asher tries to leap for Maya but Dylan grabs him by the torso and yanks him backwards, facing him away from her.

The rest of the class has broken into chaos with them, but Riley shouts to restore order. She points out that losing their heads isn’t going to do them any favors. They need to keep their cool if they want any chance of getting through this week -- and that means _everyone_.

> **Zay:** Take her bullhorn away, I think that’s a good first step.

Crisis temporarily averted, Riley jumps into team brainstorming. Clearly, something isn’t clicking. Her brain is working a mile a minute, trying to land on what the problem might be.

> **Haley:** Maybe we just need more people? There’s strength in numbers.
> 
> **Darby:** Haverford has at least 25 boys competing from their senior class. We’re not even matching that.
> 
> **Yindra:** A good performance doesn’t need quantity. It takes quality.
> 
> **Missy:** Which is clearly out of stock in this auditorium.
> 
> **Nate:** Well maybe if we had more quantity, we’d collectively get more quality.

Considering the stakes and tension, Yindra takes NATE MARTINEZ’s snippy tone as a dig, and the two of them start to bicker. Riley cuts it off preemptively, Nate retreating over to Jeff and Jade. Dylan jumps in, trying to help.

> **Dylan:** If we need more people, I can tag in.
> 
> **Maya:** For the love of God…
> 
> **Dylan:** I don’t learn as fast as Ash, but I can pick up enough to get by.
> 
> **Lucas:** Help round out the male presence too.
> 
> **Riley:** Yeah. Yeah, that’s great Dylan, thanks.

A potential solution for now. Maya tells everyone to take five and then they’ll regroup to run it again one more time before they wrap for the afternoon -- and Dylan should start getting tips from others in the meantime if he’s gonna catch up.

But Riley stays put while the others disperse. Her brow is still crinkled, lost in thought. It’s great that they’ve got another talented person bolstering their performance, but something about it still doesn’t feel right.

And though she dreads to think it, she wonders if the issue runs much deeper than manpower.

**INT. AAA - DRESSING ROOM HALL - DAY**

Isadora catches up to a grumpy and frazzled Maya, pulling her aside and advising her to take a deep, cleansing breath. Maya waves off the impact of such a silly gesture outright, yet she complies anyway and takes a long, theatrical breath.

Once she’s done, Isadora continues.

> **Isadora:** After rehearsal, I want you to come with me. I think I have something that’ll make you feel better.
> 
> **Maya:** Oh, do you? Bold claim, Izzy. Don’t tease me. You’d need a miracle to relieve the tension knots I’ve got in my starlet shoulders right now.
> 
> **Isadora:** And I’ve got just that. This will be good, whether we win showdown or not.

Isadora raises her eyebrows, playfully challenging her not to agree, then saunters off with a knowing smirk. Seems like a high bar, but Maya is intrigued nonetheless.

**INT. HAVERFORD PREP - SENIOR LOUNGE - DAY**

We hear the familiar track of the A class’s rendition of “Rain On Me,” but it’s filtered through tinny laptop speakers rather than being appreciated in its full glory.

That’s because a bunch of the Haverford boys are watching **a recording of their semi-finals performance** on DWEEZIL HOWARD’s laptop. Professional-grade filming, all right there for them to see. Brandon’s flash drive is plugged into the computer. The Havies laugh and talk amongst themselves as they watch the performance, both making fun of it and making note of all the ways Adams might be a threat at the same time.

> **Evan:** Babineaux _is_ a really good dancer.
> 
> **Havie:** Yeah, thankfully he took care of himself so that we didn’t have to.

A couple others snort, high-fiving. Charlie enters the student lounge, pausing when he hears the unfamiliar content his classmates are watching. He frowns slightly, listening closely. Curiously, it actually sounds strangely _familiar_ … like… but no, it couldn’t be…

Then he hears a baritone he would recognize anywhere -- Zay on his brief vocal solo -- and he knows his instincts are right. It _is_ the A class, the medley of his former peers’ voices undeniable once he confirms it.

He makes his way over, trying his best to be cool and casual as he joins them. Most of the boys greet him cheerfully, though Dweezil’s smile fades and he tenses up when he realizes Charlie has joined them. It seems like he wants to turn the screen away, but it’s too late.

> **Charlie:** _[ feigning ignorance ]_ What’s everyone looking at?
> 
> **Havie:** Check it -- Brandon got his hands on the Adams showcase.

Charlie takes the invitation, stepping closer and looking over his classmates to see for himself. There they are, right in front of his eyes -- the A class, doing their full routine at semi-finals. Someone makes a snide comment about one of Maya’s vocal runs and the group chuckles, Charlie awkwardly laughing along.

> **Charlie, innocently:** Isn’t that against the rules?
> 
> **Havie 2:** Only if you get caught.
> 
> **Havie, smugly:** Considering we’ve done this for the last six years, I don’t think the showdown rules committee is especially strict.

The last _six years_? That certainly explains Haverford’s damning winning streak… and Brandon’s sudden desire to change up their setlist. He’s making tweaks based on AAA’s performance, finding ways to heighten their strengths and set them even further apart from the competition. Charlie swallows, trying to process everything without giving away his panic, but Dweezil is watching him like a hawk.

EVAN SCOTT notices too, eyeing him with concern.

> **Evan:** You okay, Charlie?

Charlie hesitates, unsure what to say. He knows it matters. _Tell us who you are. Tell us who you are. Tell us who you are…_

Then he relaxes, managing an easy smile. Stepping into that same charm he flexes at church, disarming everyone and negating any need to give him a second thought.

> **Charlie:** I was just thinking my former classmates were going to bring tougher competition. _[ nodding to the video ]_ Obviously, I was wrong.

The boys laugh, nodding and hooting in agreement. A couple of them pat Charlie on the arm, and he flashes the Prince Charming smile. But once attention goes back to the Adams tape, the veneer dims.

**INT. APARTMENT BUILDING - ELEVATOR - DAY**

Maya eyes Isadora with suspicion as the two girls travel up in an elevator. Isadora has refused to explain what’s going on, but has an uncontrollable smile on her face. 

> **Maya:** If you’re bringing me here to show me a new luxe pad you and Eric are getting, it will not make me feel better, I hope you realize.

Isadora laughs, but says nothing. The elevator dings as the doors slide open.

**INT. APARTMENT BUILDING - HALLWAY - DAY**

Isadora leads Maya to the door for apartment 803 and stops in front of it, her excitement palpable. Maya raises her eyebrows and looks at Isadora expectantly. 

> **Isadora:** Open it. 
> 
> **Maya:** I really don’t have time for this, Izzy. Your dance skills are severely lacking, remember, and this is starting to feel like a way to avoid practice. 
> 
> **Isadora:** _[ with an eye roll ]_ Just go in. Trust me.

Maya sighs, but obliges.

**INT. APARTMENT 803 - DAY**

Behind the door is a cozy apartment with large windows looking out to the city. There isn’t much furniture, only the essentials such as a couch and kitchen table, along with cardboard boxes dotted around. With her back to Isadora and Maya, a blonde woman crouches to dig through one of the boxes.

Maya looks around as they enter, impressed but confused. Upon hearing their entrance, the woman hurriedly stands up and turns to them. It’s KATY HART, who grins when she sees her daughter.

When Maya notices her mother, her jaw drops. She stands frozen for a moment while Katy rushes over and embraces her. It takes a moment for her brain to catch up, but when it does, Maya hugs her back just as tightly, squealing with joy.

When they pull apart, both their faces are streaked with tears. Katy holds Maya’s head in her hands and brushes hair away from her face.

> **Maya:** I missed you so much. 
> 
> **Katy:** It’s so good to see you, baby girl.
> 
> **Maya:** I don’t… why are you here? _How_ are you here? What even _is_ here?

Katy looks over at Isadora. When Maya spins around to follow Katy’s gaze, realization hits her. She looks around the apartment again, this time in awe. 

> **Maya:** Is this… for us? 
> 
> **Isadora:** My mom made a lot of promises that she didn’t end up keeping. Moving Katy back to New York to be with you was one of the biggest. It didn’t feel fair for that to fall apart because of her death. I’ll foot the rent bill until you’re all settled and find new work and help with the decorating. 
> 
> **Katy:** You’re such an angel, Isadora. I can never thank you enough for this.

Isadora waves Katy off, a blush rising to her cheeks. A fresh wave of tears hits Maya and she pulls Isadora in for a hug. 

> **Maya:** You’re the best. The absolute best. I love you, thank you. 
> 
> **Isadora, lightly:** You’ll pay me back when you’re rich and famous, anyway.

While Maya takes off to inspect every detail of the space and begin designing her dream apartment in her head, Katy stays with Isadora. She gives her a warm smile. 

> **Katy:** You’re growing up into such a fine young woman. I’m sure Valerie would’ve been so proud. 
> 
> **Isadora, quietly:** Thank you. 
> 
> **Katy:** Eric is wonderful, but know that I’m here if you ever need a mom to talk to, okay?

Katy gives Isadora a small pat on the shoulder, then heads over to where Maya is taking pictures of the space. Maya grins up at her mother and hugs her again. 

> **Maya:** I need to make sure you’re really here and not a figment of my imagination. The power of my creativity has been astounding me lately. Remember what I told you about the dentist? _Well_ , I had a revelation…

Isadora watches on with a bittersweet smile. Not a bad first impact to make with what Valerie left behind.

**INT. CHUBBIES - DAY**

Lucas is at his usual spot behind the counter, but work is slow and his mood is even more dejected than normal. Riley is in the same low spirit, chin propped on her hand as she sits opposite him on a stool, both of them talking about Adams’ increasingly poor chances at finals. At this point, with the way they’re hobbling through it, it’ll be a miracle if they aren’t booed off the stage.

> **Lucas:** It’s fine. I wouldn’t be the first president to make promises they didn’t keep -- nor the last, I’m sure.
> 
> **Riley:** I just… I feel like we’re stuck. _[ sitting up straighter ]_ It’s like, we’re not short on star power or talent. We’re not short on effort. We all want this victory, maybe for different reasons, but there is a unified cause. That’s not always the case with our class.
> 
> **Lucas:** You’re cute. It’s _never_ the case.
> 
> **Riley:** My point is that we have all the elements, all the right pieces, but I feel like we’re trying to put them together to create a tableaux that doesn’t… _exist_ anymore. Like sure, the routine got us through semis, but it was a different time and a different team. By sticking so tightly to this predetermined vision of how things were supposed to go, I think we’re shooting ourselves in the foot. Like shoving a round block into a square hole -- it just doesn’t fit.

Maybe so, but what’s the alternative? Start over from scratch, with a week to go? Riley admits that it seems daunting…

> **Riley:** But I don’t know. At this point, what do we have to lose? There’s so much talent that we’re not highlighting in this set, so much unique charm in our class. And I think if we have any chance of beating Haverford, it’s going to be _because_ of all those things that set us apart. We’ve pulled off greater feats before, I think we could do it if we all really committed to it. _[ with a sigh ]_ But I know that’s not going to happen. No one wants to risk changing it up.

Understandably so, but it’s clear it’s weighing on her. She presses her palms to her eyes, releasing another sigh. Lucas frowns, obviously wishing there was more he could do to fix it -- he doesn’t even have the words to comfort her since he’s no good with them. But he offers an attempt, speaking softly.

> **Lucas:** Look, you know I’m the last person you should go to for performing advice, so I can’t exactly comment on whether the setlist would be better off scrapped. I mean, I know it’s a fucking trainwreck right now --
> 
> **Riley:** I think that’s clear to even the most presentationally challenged.
> 
> **Lucas:** But what I do know is that I trust you. If your gut is telling you that something about this isn’t right, then I believe it. Your instincts are almost as sharp as mine --
> 
> **Riley:** _Almost_?
> 
> **Lucas:** In performing, you outrank me. Everything else, up for debate. _[ off her nose crinkle ]_ Bottom line, you know what you’re talking about. And when you talk, people listen. If you feel like doing this might save our chances, wild as it might be, then you should tell the others. And whatever you choose to do, I’m marching right behind you.

Wow… well, with that shining seal of approval… Riley holds his gaze, contemplating his words. Then she manages a tired smile, taking his hands and pressing a quick kiss to his knuckles.

The brief slice of serenity is interrupted when Charlie pushes through the door, spotting Riley at the counter. He rushes over and tosses half a greeting towards Lucas, restless and out of breath, then turns to Riley.

> **Charlie:** I need to talk to you.
> 
> **Riley:** Well, good thing we’re having lunch then. _[ hopping off the stool ]_ Do you want to like order anything first --
> 
> **Charlie, desperate:** No, Riley, I -- it can’t wait. It’s important.

Riley clocks his nerves, losing her friendly ease. She takes his arm and leads him quickly to a booth.

> **Riley:** What’s wrong? Is everything okay with your family? Rosie, or Bridgette --
> 
> **Charlie:** No, no, they’re fine. It’s not about that. It’s about showdown.
> 
> **Riley:** Showdown? _[ uncertain ]_ Charlie, I don’t know if we should be discussing…
> 
> **Charlie:** Not like what Haverford is doing. I mean, sort of -- _[ hitting his palm against his forehead in agitation ]_ shit.
> 
> **Riley:** Charlie, you’re worrying me. What’s going on?

Charlie screws his eyes shut, inhaling a breath and holding it. When he opens his eyes, he meets her gaze, and that’s the moment where it’s all or nothing. Dangerous consequences in either direction, the fear of action paralyzing him, but that same question rattling in his skull.

_Tell us who you are._

Charlie exhales, eye contact steady as he steels himself.

> **Charlie:** There’s something you need to know.

Riley stares at him, eyes wide, bracing for the unknown.

**INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY**

The A class is assembled on the stage, forming a semblance of a circle around Riley. She’s holding court, reluctantly delivering the bad news.

> **Riley:** Haverford knows our setlist.

The reaction is instantaneous. There’s a mix of gasp and curses, and only seconds before nervous and indignant chatter breaks out. _What? How? You’re kidding._

> **Isadora:** How is that even possible?
> 
> **Riley:** As far as I know, they got their hands on a recording of our performance at semis from an outside source.
> 
> **Zay:** So they didn’t risk getting caught recording themselves.
> 
> **Chai:** Lord knows they could afford it.
> 
> **Riley:** They’ve been using it to alter their routine. They’ve already changed a lot of stuff to contrast ours.
> 
> **Lucas:** And apparently they’ve been doing this for a while. _[ pointedly ]_ Like six years.
> 
> **Nate:** Those bitches.
> 
> **Dave:** So many people begging to get egged these days.
> 
> **Asher:** So we should report them. If we file a complaint, the sponsors will investigate and they’ll no doubt find the footage on them. Karma.
> 
> **Riley:** No, we can’t. It’s probably too late for them to do a thorough investigation anyway, and I don’t want this to blowback on Charlie. He risked a lot telling me about it, I’m not going to risk throwing him under the bus if they find out we know.
> 
> **Nigel:** Or worse, if they think he snitched himself.
> 
> **Riley:** I mean, imagine if one of us went and told Haverford information we wanted to keep secret. What would you do to them?
> 
> **Maya:** Itching powder in their stage make-up and a full-throttle psychological assault until they’re so worn down they drop out and transfer to Quincy High to be a humdrum accountant for the rest of their days. _[ a beat ]_ Oh, I see. You meant that rhetorically.

Long story short, no going to the disciplinary committee. It wouldn’t do much, anyway, seeing as the only technical proof they have is word of mouth. This grim reality settles over them, Yindra declaring what everyone is thinking.

> **Yindra:** Well, it’s over. Nice run, gals and gays.

Maybe so… the energy in the room plummets, the feeble hope keeping them moving dissolving with their prospects of a showdown victory. Zay grits his teeth, crumbling the edges of his choreography sheets. Maya delicately places her bullhorn at her feet, walking away from it and turning from the group to hide her emotion. Dylan rests his chin on Asher’s shoulder; Isadora reaches for Farkle’s hand and squeezes, keeping her eyes glued to the floor.

Riley looks around at all her classmates, empathizing with their defeat… until her gaze lands on Lucas. He’s already looking at her, watching her expectantly. He dips his head in half a nod, subtly emphasizing his earlier encouragement. It might feel hopeless, but if there were any time to suggest the impossible… and where she leads, he will follow…

Riley squares her shoulders, keeping her eyes locked on his, and finds her voice.

> **Riley:** Maybe it’s not over just yet.

She certainly captures everyone’s attention. Heads perk up and eyebrows raise as Riley steps center stage, appealing to all of them that the fight isn’t over until the results are read Saturday.

> **Sarah:** Come on, Matthews. You can’t be serious.
> 
> **Nate:** Yeah, I mean, I love the sunshine bit as much as the next baddie, but how are you going to spin this?
> 
> **Riley:** Am I wrong? This thing isn’t done until a victor is declared -- or we decide it’s over. And I don’t know about you all, but I’m not looking to just hand over a win to the Havies, especially one they _really_ don’t deserve.
> 
> **Maya:** … okay, I’m listening. Make your pitch, Riles, and make it a good one.

And she does, ardently. The way she sees it, their chances aren’t dead. They just have to reinvent themselves. Rearrange, reorganize, find a better way of showcasing who they are and what they’re about. They did it last year -- in circumstances much harder than these -- and came out stronger for it. They’re a team now, and if they could survive all of that, they can rise above this. They just have to do exactly that: showcase who they are.

> **Riley:** Haverford thinks that to win, they need to know what we’re up to ahead of time -- which means they’re scared -- and prove all the ways they aren’t us. Well, I say we hit them back right where it hurts and show just how much they can’t match our stride.
> 
> **Nigel:** With what, a whole new routine?
> 
> **Darby:** You’re kidding. In a week?
> 
> **Riley:** Every week we come up with dozens of performances! That’s what we spend every single day in this school doing. And with all of us working _together_? Yeah, I think we could pull something off.
> 
> **Clarissa:** Something the Havies have no way of cheating to beat...

Exactly! Now we’re feeling the spirit! The energy is tentative, just starting to bubble up again amidst them all, hope peeking back out through the darkness to shed some light. Riley feeds off it, growing more impassioned.

> **Riley:** And this time, we need to focus on all of the things that make us stand out. That make us different, better, _special_. What are some of the things we have that Haverford doesn’t?
> 
> **Farkle, flatly:** … women?

He’s somewhat joking, but Riley rolls with it. She taps her nose in agreement, a signal to keep the ball rolling. The wheels are turning now…

> **Yindra:** Individuality. You don’t see us walking around in some pretentious ass uniforms.
> 
> **Nigel:** And the best costumer in the state in our ranks.
> 
> _[ All eyes turn to Jade, who flushes. She bashfully pushes some hair behind her ear from her spot beside NIGEL CHEY, but then straightens up in an attempt to match the confidence. ]_
> 
> **Jade:** A costumer who _did_ just submit all her applications and now has free time to make something new…

The thought process keeps moving from there. _Personality. Some of the best young talent in the city. Skilled technicians._

> **Riley:** We have one of the best student technician programs _in the country_ here, and yet there’s never a focus on that at showdown. But we can change that. Jade can make costumes that are unforgettable. We can play with movement, set pieces, production details that’ll put it over the top. These are the kind of things we should be showcasing, the things we’re so lucky to have in this class that the Haverford boys will _never_ get.

For what it’s worth, it seems like everyone is coming around. The spark is back, and even if it’s a futile mission, might as well go out with a bang rather than fizzle to nothing before the fire truly gets going.

As if to cement the mission, Maya makes a statement of her own. She scoops her bullhorn off the floor and marches to center stage… then hands it over to Riley. A symbolic passing of the torch for a new game plan. She gives her a smirk, only the slightest bit reluctant to relinquish control.

> **Maya:** Bang bang.

Yes, Riley Matthews has let her firecracker side take control. She returns Maya’s smile, choosing not to use the bullhorn but launching into planning mode regardless. She turns to Zay first, asking if he’d still be willing to sketch out new choreography for them on such short notice and although he can’t run through it himself.

> **Riley:** We should have never boxed you out of the vision. You’re the best dancer there is, and that doesn’t change just because you can’t do it yourself at the moment. _[ a beat ]_ Do you think you can do it?
> 
> **Zay:** … _[ as if it’s a difficult decision ]_ It won’t be anywhere near as good as it would be with more time and actual mobility, but I’m sure I can throw something together.

The corners of his mouth lift just slightly, signaling to Riley what she wants to hear. _Apology accepted._ She nods, grateful for more than one thing.

> **Nate:** You should get Jeff to help. He’s a killer break dancer.
> 
> **Zay:** That’s true. If we’re talking about underutilized assets, that’s a big one. You can probably fill some of the gaps left behind by me with some skillful showing off. Even just some basic party trick break dancing will wow a standard audience. _[ to Jeff ]_ What do you say?
> 
> **Jeff:** As long as I can map out the lighting design and pass it off to Lucas, then I say hells yeah.

Sick! Jeff jogs over to Zay and exchanges a fist bump handshake with him, Riley grinning at both of them. She then turns to Farkle.

> **Riley:** I know you’ve got a lot on your plate right now.

Isadora raises her eyebrows at this. News to her, though she definitely clocked his uneven mood as of late… Farkle listens attentively, waiting for Riley’s request.

> **Riley:** But you’re the most creative person I know when it comes to innovating music, at least from a spectacle standpoint. _[ re: Clarissa ]_ And we’ve got an amazing concert musician in our midst who knows a thing or two about composition. Between you, Clarissa, and Nate’s mixing skills, I think you might be able to mash together a showstopper not easily forgotten.
> 
> **Farkle:** Give me the tone you’re going for, and I’ll see what this basket case can deliver.

Okay, now we’re cooking with fire! Riley turns to Jade, but she’s already moving, passing by her with Asher, Nigel, and Haley in tow en route to the costume loft.

> **Jade:** Already on it. Let me know the setlist when it’s mapped out.

Having spun basically all the way around, Riley is back to Lucas. She meets his eyes, the two of them holding eye contact for a long moment. The rest of the techies and remaining A class yet to be assigned a task stand at attention, waiting for marching orders… but he’s looking to her. The hint of a flirtatious challenge laced in his expression, daring her to tell him what to do.

And she does, though she can’t help the teasing smirk that ghosts over her features.

> **Riley:** If we’re going to pull this off, it’s going to be all hands on deck. The techies might have to work double time to pull together what we need, but it’ll be worth it to show off how fantastic we really are. And you can put the performers to work too when we’re not rehearsing… if you think you can do it.

Challenge laid down... as if there was ever any doubt he would accept it. But Lucas plays along, unable to hold back the slight quirk in his lips that mirrors her own. He doesn’t break eye contact with her, but declares to the assembled group:

> **Lucas:** You heard her.

That they did, Lucas. Loud and clear! Riley continues to smile at him as the A class erupts into a flurry of movement around her, back to work and more energized than ever before. The engine of Motown swing rumbles to life, underscoring the new endeavor…

**INT. AAA - BLACK BOX THEATER - DAY**

* * *

**Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Get Ready / Dancing In The Street” as performed by _Motown The Musical_ Original Broadway Cast Recording || Performed by AAA Seniors**

The performance carries through the ensuing montage of the A class hustling to put together a brand new routine, firing on all cylinders to bring it together. To kick us off, Riley starts in the black box classroom with Zay, Yindra, Maya, and Isadora, deliberating on the white board about what songs or series of songs should populate their new list. There’s a lot of key words scattered across the board -- _individuality, range, the power of women_ \-- but it seems they’ve already narrowed it down to their chosen concept.

Riley finishes up jotting down all the ideas on a piece of paper, the others leaning over to snap photos and send them out to people in the class. Sarah rushes in and takes the original paper from Riley, saluting as she takes off again into the hallway with it. The moment she’s out there door of one room --

**INT. AAA - PRACTICE ROOM - DAY**

She’s dashing into the next, joining Farkle, Nate, and CLARISSA CRUZ in the practice studio. Sarah hands the setlist ideas to Farkle at the piano, settling down next to DARBY WINTERS who is helping try out chords on her guitar. Nate has one half of his industrial headset on, fiddling with a sound mixing program on his chunky laptop as they avidly discuss whatever they’re scheming together.

Clarissa is listening with rapt attention to the discussion, only tuning out when she gets a text on her phone. She quickly lets them know she’ll be back in a minute, darting out of the studio --

**INT. AAA - COSTUME LOFT - DAY**

And arriving in the costume loft, though she pauses in the doorway. Jade is already dealing with someone, Maya having paid a visit to the costume loft to argue over certain costume concepts in regards to the new setlist. Just before the dance break, the music quiets somewhat, vamping under the scene as it unfolds.

While Maya is at her full diva pitch -- though, to be fair, she is just trying to do what she thinks is best for the team -- Jade Beamon has finally had enough. She stops trying to ignore Maya and holds up a hand to stop her costuming team at work, Asher, Nigel, Yindra, and Isadora pausing and staring as Jade swivels to face off with her. She sharply and deftly defends her vision for the costuming, citing her thought process with curt, to the point reasoning. She also takes Maya down with impressive calmness, especially considering the circumstances and the fact that Maya used to make her cry from being so nitpicky just about two years ago.

> **Jade:** Believe it or not, Maya, I think I know what I’m doing given that I’ve designed almost every costume you’ve worn and made you look good for the past three and a half years. So how about you focus on your business, and you let me handle mine?

_Damn_. Mic drop! Maya stares at her, processing the clapback and debating whether to tear her to shreds in response or not… but ultimately, she opts to back off. If anything, Jade growing a backbone might’ve been the cure to Maya’s overbearing obnoxiousness the whole time. She leaves Jade to it, claiming she should let her know if she needs any additional help -- she’ll send someone else to do it tout de suite.

The others watch in fascination as Maya Hart retreats, strutting past Clarissa shocked and awed in the doorway. Jade takes a deep breath, recentering herself, and flips her loose ponytail back over her shoulder.

> **Jade:** Where were we?

Back to work, team! No time to waste! They get back down to business as if nothing happened, which is impressive considering that was some big news we just witnessed.

The only one who doesn’t immediately get back to work is Nigel, who continues to stare at Jade like he can’t believe she’s real. _What a woman_ …

As the dance break instrumentation swells back to full volume --

**INT. AAA - DANCE STUDIO - DAY**

Zay is tapping out the beat to a track with his good foot, bopping his head and talking through some choreography and steps with Jeff and Chai. They actually walk through the steps since he can’t, but the rapport seems to be good, and whatever they’re putting together already looks cool. They land on a particularly neat idea for a combination and Jeff and Chai high-five, the former leaning over to fist bump Zay too.

Suddenly, the dance studio that felt so lonely and isolated for so long is filled with camaraderie and enthusiasm again. Zay grins, feeling the rhythm again even though he can’t be on his feet. He jots down the combination idea, flipping the paper over --

**INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY**

And becoming Dave slamming a paint bucket at his feet, working with Dylan to put together a rolling flat that will become part of the dynamic backdrop for their performance. Dylan tests it by hopping onto it, throwing his arms out as Dave practices pushing it. They roll seamlessly out of the wings and onto the stage as the last pre-chorus launches into the final minute…

Where we find the A class back together, running through choreography and vocals together of their new routine. In this moment they perform the current song, subbing in for what their actual setlist will be, but getting the energy up and translating the hard work all the same. It’s powerful seeing them all come together, truly united like never before, and showing off exactly why they’re at such an elite school in the first place.

Zay takes the final belted run of the performance, jumping up from his seat where he, Lucas, and Maya are watching the run through. He throws his head back and lets it fly, the rest of the class backing him up at the very end to drive the number home.

* * *

**_Break 1._ **

* * *

**INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY**

The A class finishes an actual run through of their new routine, the passage of time indicated by the fact that they’re all in new rehearsal clothes. They’re breathless and sweaty but teeming with excitement. Even if it’s slapdash, even if it ends up not being enough, they clearly feel invigorated by whatever they’re putting out there. There is something so naturally riveting about underdogs making their last shot…

Zay has the floor in Riley’s absence, giving feedback and not only pointing out what could use refinement, but also what’s working. The positive reinforcement seems to be helpful, keeping everyone in light spirits in spite of the odds stacked against them.

As they’re about to break for rehearsal for the evening, Maya pipes up, asking if she can have a few words. Zay is reluctant, but obliges, stepping back next to Lucas.

Maya reveals that while they have been working hard on a majority of their new banging setlist, they still haven’t settled definitively on an opening number. Nothing has quite clicked right yet. Because of this, she argues, they’re going to need something that will fall together effortlessly -- which means a diva number. Since the rest of their routine is so heavy on the ensemble, it shouldn’t be an issue to let a powerful mezzo soprano kick off their show. It’s traditional, really, to have a star force central to some part of a showdown routine.

> **Maya:** Lucky for us, I have the perfect pitch. It came to me in a vision, actually, when I was heavily incapacitated in a dire health operation --
> 
> **Farkle:** Oh no.
> 
> **Isadora:** It was a filling, Maya.
> 
> **Maya:** And I can think of the perfect starlet to carry the number.

For a moment, the class hangs in limited suspense. Of course, she’s going to volunteer herself. But then Maya steps across the stage, making her way to stand in front of Yindra.

> **Maya:** If we’re showcasing the best and most underutilized, then I believe the choice is obvious. _[ off her surprise ]_ Now I’m not giving up this opportunity lightly -- and rest assured, the pain in my ego is so blinding I will probably have to undergo another incapacitating surgery to recover from it --
> 
> **Zay:** Really selling the selflessness here.
> 
> **Maya:** But I know you’ve got what it takes. If anyone here was ever sincerely a threat to my mezzo diva dominance… I can admit you come close. So now is the time to deliver, Amino.

Another crazy moment. Maya, sharing the spotlight… I guess that’s growth. Yindra beams, shrugging her shoulders suavely.

> **Yindra:** Don’t have to ask me twice. Let’s get to staging.

**INT. AAA - DRESSING ROOM HALL - DAY**

Post-rehearsal mayhem, everyone is rushing around gathering their things for the weekend and making sure they’re all up to date on what the plan is for tomorrow. Isadora bumps into Farkle, asking him if he’s seen Riley, but he merely shrugs.

> **Farkle:** I think she said last week that she had a doctor’s appointment. Probably wasn’t planning for our entire showcase to change in that time.
> 
> **Isadora:** Yeah, no kidding.

Whatever she wants to debrief with Riley, it’ll have to wait until later. Isadora starts to check in with him, see if everything is okay since he randomly stepped down from the spotlight -- concerningly out of character, in her opinion -- but Farkle dodges the question.

This doesn’t sit well with her, but she lets it go for now. Too many crises going on right now to keep up with -- though Farkle will always be high on her priority list.

**INT. AAA - BLACK BOX THEATER - DAY**

Yindra is hanging back to gather the last of her things and read through the new opening number choreography one more time, lightly stepping through the moves as she sings to herself under her breath. The rhythm sounds slightly familiar, but it’s just soft enough that only someone really listening carefully could make it out.

It stops soon anyway, Yindra halting and jumping in embarrassment when Zay appears in the doorway. She tilts her chin up and grows defensive again, but it’s clear the effort of being cold with him is tiring. He chooses not to acknowledge it, entering the classroom and commending her for her soft-shoe last-minute rehearsing.

> **Zay:** If it looks that great at 10% volume, I’m sure we’ll have no issues on Saturday.
> 
> **Yindra:** … well, I’m sure you wish it was you taking the diva opening. Since you’re the one working the hardest all the time.
> 
> **Zay:** Nah. If we’re aiming to secure an instant jaw-dropper, Maya couldn’t have chosen a better leading lady. Even _if_ I were fit enough to be considered a contender right now.

Oh. Well that’s… nice. Yindra shifts focus to put her choreo sheets in her shoulder bag. Zay approaches and settles on top of a desktop to ease off his boot, taking the opportunity to guide the conversation.

> **Zay:** Do you remember when we became friends?
> 
> **Yindra, loftily:** … was it when Miss Moore partnered us for duet assignments the second week of freshman year and promised a prize to the best breakout first duet, and we brought the house down with “Stand Up For Love,” but she chose Farkle and Maya instead?
> 
> **Zay, amused:** No. Though that was classic _. [ a beat ]_ And maybe an eerie premonition about dear Angela.
> 
> **Yindra:** Anyone who chooses _Anything Goes_ over the Destiny’s Child is deranged, so.

No arguments here. The moment of fellowship passes quickly, but it doesn’t feel like it’s gone for good... Yindra nods, still trying to maintain her aloof demeanor but allowing Zay to elaborate.

> **Zay:** It was earlier than that, first week of class. No one really knew anyone, except like Haley and Clarissa since they met over the summer or whatever. So it kind of felt like every day was coming into battle alone. Anyway, Maya was giving her first -- of many, _many_ \-- psychotic mini-monologues before a performance, and this one was especially cracked. Probably because she was trying to establish her bitchutation.

**INT. AAA - BLACK BOX THEATER - FLASHBACK - DAY**

Though it’s brief, we catch a glimpse of what the world was like all those years ago. The A class -- or those that we can see -- are styled to look how they might’ve that first year, awkward and _definitely_ poorly dressed compared to now. Freshman year is so hard. A slightly frazzled ANGELA MOORE attempts to maintain order, but clearly the A class of 2021 is already proving to be a… unique challenge.

True to Zay’s word, most of them are sitting on their own, though there are clusters where it seems friendship has already sprouted. An even shyer Charlie is sitting behind Clarissa and Haley, who keeps glancing over her shoulder to smile at him and then giggling nervously. Dylan, Dave, and Nate are whispering and passing notes mischievously -- Dylan with his embarrassing glasses and Bieber cut -- while Asher watches him wistfully from a couple desks away where he’s sitting with Jade. Farkle is in his blazer and semi-bowl cut and shooting daggers into Maya who is loudmouthing up at the front; Lucas is nowhere to be seen.

Zay is seated amidst it all, but distinctly on his own. He’s probably dressed better than most of his peers even then, and his hair is different than he wears it now, but even someone as cool as him can’t shake the quintessential freshman awkwardness. Presently, he’s scowling as Maya talks, clearly unimpressed.

> **Zay, voiceover:** Now, I admit, I was making a bit of a stank face. I mean, it was Maya. But I remember I glanced around to see if everyone else was hearing this nonsense --

Freshman Zay does just that, freezing and reigning in his distaste when he spots Yindra. Her hair is different as well, and she’s not clothed as fashionably as she is these days. But she’s glancing towards Zay, too, and he doesn’t want to seem like a bitch. However…

> **Zay, voiceover:** And you were making the exact same face.

For a second, freshman Yindra and Zay just stare at each other, caught. Then, Yindra cracks a smile, conspiratorial and a touch embarrassed. Zay immediately returns it, the two of them sharing a silent laugh across the room.

> **Zay, voiceover:** That was when it clicked for me. I don’t think I even knew your name yet, but it felt like we’d been friends for years. Kindred spirits.

**INT. AAA - BLACK BOX THEATER - DAY**

Back in the present, Zay finishes recounting the memory, light smile on his face as he looks at her. She’s listening but avoiding his eyes, fiddling with the strap of her bag.

> **Zay:** And I was right. I think that’s probably the only thing I was right about from freshman year. _[ slipping off the desk ]_ You and I are one in the same. That’s why we’re best friends. We have impeccable taste. We always bring it. We work our asses off. _[ a beat ]_ We find it really hard to admit when we’re wrong… or when we’ve been stung.

True enough. Yindra clears her throat, tentatively meeting his eyes.

> **Zay:** I’m sorry I was such a bitch. And I’m especially sorry that I made you think, even for a second, that you’re not good enough. That you’re not on my level or whatever bullshit I was selling this semester. It’s not true. You are the only person who is _always_ on my level. Bar none.
> 
> **Yindra:** … well, you’re certainly not the only one good at being a little bitch…
> 
> **Zay:** No, but I get why you did it. Honestly, if the roles were reversed, I probably would’ve done the same to you. Like I said, one in the same. _[ a beat ]_ And I hope you’ll forgive me and we can go back to the whole kindred spirit thing, because I _really_ don’t want to miss the boat when you’re wildly successful in L.A. and inevitably lift me up with you. Just strategic thinking.

This, finally, really breaks the ice. Yindra can’t help but smile, shaking her head.

> **Yindra:** You are _so_ dramatic.

And then she’s hugging him, pulling him into a tight embrace. Zay returns it, relieved, and the universe tilts one degree closer to being back in order.

They pull apart, Yindra scrunching her face fondly and lightly patting his cheek. She reaches over to grab her bag and slings it over her shoulder, linking her arm through his as they slowly walk towards the door.

> **Zay:** I’m serious about the career thing. Maybe we should tag team. Maybe we should go full Destiny’s Child.
> 
> **Yindra:** Ooh… _[ tapping her chin ]_ But who’s gonna be our third…
> 
> **Zay:** Nigel?
> 
> **Yindra:** … well, we can always hold open auditions.

Zay laughs, the two of them disappearing into the hallway.

**INT. TOPANGA’S CAR - MOVING - DAY**

Riley is in the passenger seat of Topanga’s car, focused on a text thread where the A class is recapping any last-minute notes and thoughts for prep tomorrow. She types a quick response apologizing for not being there that afternoon and highlighting how hard everyone has worked. In her other hand, she’s clutching a prescription slip on her lap.

TOPANGA LAWRENCE comments that it’s good they arranged this doctor appointment for today -- she is so incredibly snowed under with work at the firm, it’s lucky she was able to drive Riley out today. As if Riley doesn’t know a thing or two about being swamped these days… still, her mother is in good spirits.

> **Topanga:** I’m glad to hear everything seems to be in good shape, though. And smart of you to get this physical done in a timely manner -- your dad is such a disaster when it comes to keeping up with appointments. _[ with a smile ]_ I must’ve raised you well.

Riley manages to return the smile, ignoring the comment about Cory. At this point, those are so natural to conversations with Topanga, it’s like white noise. Topanga casts a sideways glance at the prescription she has, knowing smirk ghosting over her lips.

> **Topanga:** Though I think considering what you came to get, the reason you asked if I would take you is fairly obvious…

Riley awkwardly shifts her fingers on the slip, allowing us to get a better look at what she’s being prescribed for the first time. _Birth control._ She puts her phone in her pocket and absentmindedly fiddles with the braid on her shoulder.

> **Riley:** I did think you were the much smarter option for help in this matter, yes.
> 
> **Topanga:** No doubt about that. You should spare Cory the knowledge of this little development as long as you possibly can. For his own good.

Yeah, Riley doesn’t seem to disagree on that. Although it’s just another one-up against Cory, they do exchange a small humorous smile, like a new inside joke they share.

> **Riley:** Thanks for coming with me.
> 
> **Topanga:** Of course. _[ a beat ]_ So… you and Lucas must be getting pretty serious, then.

Riley’s expression shifts into something softer. She looks out the window, unable to look at her mother as she contemplates it. Not because she’s embarrassed, but because something about Lucas and what they have is sacred. He’s something she doesn’t want -- or have to -- share with anybody else.

Still, thinking of him naturally elicits a delicate smile.

> **Riley:** Yeah. Yeah, we are.

**INT. AAA - TECHNICIAN’S BOOTH - DAY**

Lucas is packing up, stuffing things into his backpack. He takes care to handle the showcase binder gently, not wanting to do anything or lose anything that might throw them back into the pits of hopelessness.

But something does fall out anyway, dropping to the floor at his feet. He curses under his breath and slips the binder into his bag, crouching down to recover whatever escaped.

Money. A few crisp hundred dollar bills, folded neatly together. Lucas knows he’s not just carrying that kind of money around, and it’s clear that it was slipped into his things with careful intent. It’s no mystery where it came from.

But that _also_ means someone was rooting through his stuff, once again intruding his sanctuary without permission. Lucas scowls, crumpling up the bills in his fist as he climbs back to his feet.

> **Missy, pre-lap:** No, no, it’s supposed to be that side of the stage. Do you all have directional dyslexia?

**INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY**

MISSY BRADFORD is standing on the stage, directing a bunch of the underclassmen techies to move some final set piece adjustments. But they’re young and still learning, which she clearly doesn’t have the patience for. She shakes her head, unimpressed, while behind her we can see Lucas jogging down from the booth.

> **Missy:** I swear, they just don’t make help like they used to…
> 
> **Lucas:** Hey!

Missy swivels around, expression brightening in interest when she sees who’s snapping at her. She saunters over to the edge of the stage as the younger techies disperse, leaving them alone.

> **Missy:** Just the person I wanted to talk to. I _finally_ got those panels for the rolling flats. Normally it shouldn’t take this long, _especially_ considering how much I paid, but when it’s a rush job --
> 
> **Lucas:** What makes you think you can go through my shit?

Lucas’s tone is harsh, more scathing than the usual dry sarcasm he employs with her. But it doesn’t intimidate Missy much -- in fact, if anything, it just seems to intrigue her more. She raises her eyebrows as he reaches the front of the house, now standing essentially below her.

> **Lucas:** And the booth. I told you you can’t just go waltzing in there whenever the fuck you want. To _do_ whatever the fuck you want --

He tosses the crumpled bills at her feet on the stage, glaring up at her derisively. She shrugs coolly, clasping her hands together.

> **Missy:** As far as I understand it, actually, the booth is available to all students for use. So I have every right to it just as much as you do.

Lucas clenches his jaw, obviously wanting to bite back, but in this case he has no argument. Technically, _technically_ , she’s right. Even if every other student silently respects the unspoken rule that the booth is his, there’s nothing he can use against someone who doesn’t. His anger is palpable when he speaks again, voice low.

> **Lucas:** This thing, whatever it is? It’s done. It has to stop.
> 
> **Missy, innocently:** “Thing?” I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about --
> 
> **Lucas:** Yes, you do. Cut the bullshit. Whatever game you’re playing, or… dance you think you’re doing, you’re doing it on your own. I’m done with it.

Bold words. And obviously not something Missy would want to hear… though for what it’s worth, she seems unfazed by his declaration. She maintains her confident nonchalance, examining him for a long moment… then holds her hands up in surrender.

> **Missy:** Okay. I never meant to upset you, Lucas. I was just trying to help. [ a beat ] But if you’re really not into it anymore, you can always… give the money back.

Oh. Well… that’s not so simple. Lucas opens his mouth as if he’s going to respond, but nothing comes out. Some of the fire he marched down here with burns out, leaving him uncertain. And Missy sure notices, her sweetness sharpening into coy smugness. She tilts her head.

> **Missy:** But you’re not going to do that. Are you?

She casually extends her designer shoe to kick at one of the discarded bills, threatening to send it down the thin gap between the orchestra pit and the floor. But Lucas reaches out to save it just in time, hastily catching it before it’s lost forever.

Got ‘em. She’s spotted Lucas’s brazen dismissal for exactly what it is -- a bluff.

And he’s clearly ashamed of it, how easily he caved, when the thing he needs so desperately is dangled in front of his face. Missy gives him a sympathetic look, but it’s closer to pity than empathy. It’s so hard to tell what is _real_ from her, how much she actually sees Lucas as a human being versus an attractive puzzle for her to toy with.

But in this moment, she’s won, so she’s feeling charitable. She primly lowers herself down to sit on the stage across from him, crossing her legs and picking up the other wrinkled bills. She spreads them on her lap and smooths them as she talks, restoring them to pristine condition.

> **Missy:** I thought we already discussed this. We’re on the same page about our little dynamic. And it’ll all be worth it, won’t it, when you get what you want… _[ eyeing him ]_ if you truly care so much about UC Davis.
> 
> **Lucas:** There are things I care about more. _[ a beat, then softer ]_ Things I don’t want to mess up.

Although he doesn’t say it, it’s fairly obvious what he’s thinking about. Missy’s not an idiot, and she knows where he stands with Riley. But he’s been willing to play along this long… and given her lack of context and history and how brusque Lucas tends to be around others, it’s unlikely Missy considers Riley much of an issue. But if he wants to continue the game…

> **Missy:** And that’s why it’s a private affair. Hush-hush, just between you and me. There’s no guilt in what people don’t know. And besides, do you want to welcome all the additional trouble you’ll have to contend with if I _don’t_ contribute? I think you’ve already got enough on your plate.

She finishes flattening the bills, placing them gingerly on the edge of the stage next to her. Ready to be his again, should he deem to take them. All of the rage that drove him to confront her has been extinguished, replaced with that cold, cornered feeling he always has when she’s there.

> **Missy:** Focus on the big problems, Lucas. Showdown, your scholarship plans. And once that’s all squared away and the dust has settled… then we can explore what comes next. _[ slipping off the stage ]_ One step at a time.

She passes him without another glance, making her way up the aisles and leaving him on that note. He starts to glance over his shoulder but ultimately doesn’t, not even wanting to look at her anymore. He looks a little sick.

But the money remains, waiting for him. No Missy there to scrutinize him as he takes it, no judgment being cast down on him but his own. He knows his truth. He knows what he cares about, what matters above all else. And money is money… he’s always known that… doesn’t matter where, or who, it comes from…

Lucas hangs stuck in that moment, torn between shame and sense.

**INT. AAA - DANCE STUDIO - NIGHT**

Long after the final bell of the day has rung, Isadora remains in the dance studio, going over the routine again. It’s usually Zay’s territory at this time of night, but instead of his perfected moves and graceful poise, Isadora is following the steps in almost a robotic manner, and cursing at herself whenever she makes a mistake.

Chai peeks her head around the door, having been practicing herself in another studio and wondering who’s still here. She watches Isadora struggle for a moment before stepping in and pressing pause on the music. Isadora looks over to her in shock. 

> **Chai:** Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you. What are you still doing here?
> 
> **Isadora:** What does it look like? Failing miserably at the routine.

Chai sighs in sympathy and shrugs off her sports duffel so that she can help Isadora. Isadora cringes as Chai does a couple of stretches to warm herself up again. 

> **Isadora:** I feel bad. You already spent so long trying to help me and here I am the night before the showcase, as terrible as ever. 
> 
> **Chai:** You’re too hard on yourself. Everyone’s been struggling with the choreo since it changed in such short notice, and for a non-dancer you’re doing well. You remember all the steps, you just need to do them more gracefully.

Chai demonstrates one of the moves that Isadora was trying to do a moment earlier, but when Isadora copies, she doesn’t have the same natural rhythm and movement that Chai does. Chai tries coaching her through it, giving her instructions to twist a bit more, or move her arm like this and that, but it only makes Isadora more frustrated. 

> **Isadora:** We’ve been trying this for days. It isn’t going to work. I’m a lost cause. 
> 
> **Chai:** Nobody is a lost cause. We just have to try something new.

Chai tells Isadora to do the routine again, and starts the music. She walks around Isadora as she dances, scrutinizing every move. At one point when Isadora seems particularly robotic in her movements, Chai reaches out to correct her position on instinct. She freezes when she realizes it might not want to be touched, hands hovering over Isadora’s hips. Isadora looks down at Chai’s hands and halts. 

> **Chai, shyly:** Is this… okay?

Isadora gives a tentative nod. Chai rests her hands lightly on Isadora, and guides her through the movements. Both are quiet and a little tense, an odd tension in the air, but it isn’t uncomfortable.

As they get used to it, they relax and Isadora’s dancing becomes more natural. Once Chai thinks that she’s got it, she takes a step back and lets her hands drift away. She requests Isadora go through it again. This time, Isadora’s moves flow much better and she looks less awkward. Chai smiles brightly. 

> **Chai:** You got it! 
> 
> **Isadora:** Really? 
> 
> **Chai:** Yeah, it’s looking good. Really good. Let's do it again.

Chai steps in line with Isadora, and they start the routine from scratch. That odd tension is still there, but it feels more like tentative excitement than anything else. They glance at each other as they step through moves in the routine, exchanging a smile before spinning in opposite directions.

**INT. HAVERFORD PREP - AUDITORIUM - NIGHT**

The Haverford boys are wrapping up their last evening rehearsal before Saturday, all of them sweaty and exhausted. Even if they’re got an unfair advantage, they’re not going to skate on it.

What _is_ interesting is that Charlie is nowhere to be seen. Everyone else is accounted for except him, and his absence is noticeable -- particularly on the eve of showdown. Brandon runs through final notes and reminders, then relaxes just a fraction to rally his boys and assure them that victory is all but guaranteed. All there is left to do is go out there and do the damn thing.

Hurrah! The Havies come together as Billy leads a rallying cheer, demonstrating that iron-clad brotherhood once again. They do a final hoot and cheer and disband just as Charlie appears in the wings, hanging back to let them have their moment.

As his classmates pass him, their reception towards him is mixed -- some are casual and friendly, as if nothing is out of the ordinary, while others shoot him dirty looks for his blatant skipping of rehearsal. Billy makes a point of bumping him with his shoulder.

> **Billy:** Way to show up, C.

Charlie takes it all in stride, swallowing his nerves and not reacting. He waits until the rest of the class has cleared out, hovering on the sidelines until there’s nothing left for Brandon to do but address him.

> **Brandon:** I’m assuming, since you deemed to grace me with your presence now, that you have a good reason for missing our last rehearsal before showdown.

There’s his cue. Charlie nods, stepping out of the shadows and joining him on the stage.

> **Charlie:** I’m sorry about that. Just… a personal emergency.
> 
> **Brandon, unimpressed:** It doesn’t reflect well on you, Charles. I admit, I thought you were more reliable than that. _[ off his sheepish expression ]_ But it’s fine, we all have off days. Thankfully we were able to work around you.
> 
> **Charlie:** That’s good. I’m glad to hear it. _[ a beat ]_ If you’ve already figured that out, then you’ll be able to do it without me on Saturday.

Now that, Brandon wasn’t expecting. His eyebrows shoot up. Charlie holds his ground, trying not to wither under his stare and keep his voice even and resolute.

> **Charlie:** Believe me, it’s not my ideal outcome, and I really don’t want to let the team down. You guys have been good to me, really taken me under your wing, and I needed that when I first got here. I don’t want to screw that up.
> 
> **Brandon:** But?
> 
> **Charlie:** But I don’t think I can get up there and compete against Adams. You and the boys deserve to have everyone on the same page, one hundred percent dedicated and focused on the win. And as much as I want to be a part of that, I know in my heart I won’t be able to deliver.

Brandon remains skillfully unreadable, simply listening without giving any of his reactions away. Charlie clears his throat.

> **Charlie:** I like being at Haverford. I like being part of the brotherhood. But part of me will always be with Adams. Those people… they’re my family. And I can’t go against family. _[ a beat ]_ You get that, right?

Considering his commitment to the brotherhood, you’d think he would. Brandon contemplates for a long moment, leaving Charlie nervous and vulnerable in the encroaching silence… one that grows more painful the longer it ticks on...

Then he smiles, suave and unbothered like always.

> **Brandon:** Sure, Charles. I understand completely.

Charlie exhales, managing a relieved smile. He thanks Brandon for being so cool about it, and assures him that he’ll still be there on Saturday to support everyone. But this already feels so much better. He thanks Brandon one more time and then heads out, wishing him luck for the whole team as he goes.

Brandon upholds his pleasant smile until Charlie is gone, granting him an easy wave as he steps out the door. But once he’s out of sight, the charm dissipates. His expression sours, the barbed edges bleeding through his smooth demeanor.

> **Announcer, pre-lap:** Ladies and gentlemen, we’re in for a face-off for the ages!

**INT. SHOWDOWN FINALS VENUE - LOBBY - DAY**

Saturday. The day of senior showdown. The energy is electric as we move through the elegant space, the same arts and cultural center where the Jacobs Gala was held in 112. It’s grandiose and professional-grade, a sense of the big leagues if there ever was one. It’s like one step below an actual Broadway stage -- think the [Dolby](https://www.travelcaffeine.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/03/dolby-theater-guided-tour-hollywood-california-065.jpg) [Theatre](https://s.abcnews.com/images/Entertainment/GTY-oscars-red-carpet-jt-170205_12x5_992.jpg) Oscars vibes, or the [Kennedy](https://c8.alamy.com/comp/J9CKK0/john-f-kennedy-center-interior-washington-dc-usa-J9CKK0.jpg) [Center](https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/proxy/OxHVFoDPL10yt9prSQAyAAZhh-mt9gub5CmRlNUcTOHhOF1Jqk_WoTKJvpk0LUz8klRjA628Q2QH09EpGtQqxEASh1qQ5OltAwg9ifKvvt6gqiFWoy6UzORIBg).

The place is already buzzing with life, venue officials rushing to and fro to keep things organized and groups from different schools wandering and congregating. Adams and Haverford are only one showdown of many this afternoon, as the announcers explain over the scenery that senior showdown is an annual event that encompasses multiple forms of competitive art and multiple delegations of the cream of the crop. Manhattan is only a piece of the program today -- though admittedly, it’s one of the most anticipated segments of the day.

**INT. SHOWDOWN FINALS VENUE - AUDITORIUM - DAY**

The announcers say as much, describing that the orchestra showdowns will kick us off, followed by show choir, dance troupe, and a couple of other categories. And then by this afternoon, we’ll dive into the highly awaited performance showdowns, including the two Manhattan elites: Adams Academy for the Arts versus their long-time rivals and reigning six-year champs, Haverford Preparatory Academy. As they wrap up their opening spiel, we get a look at the fancy stage digs they’ll be working with, already filling up with spectators.

What a way to fund the arts. It’s time to showdown!

**EXT. LUCAS’S APARTMENT - DAY**

Well, not _quite_ yet time. The A class still has time to spare, and things are much quieter over in the East Village.

**INT. LUCAS’S APARTMENT - LUCAS’S BEDROOM - DAY**

Which is where we find Riley and Lucas, picking up a couple of items for showdown that Lucas had been storing for safe-keeping. His shoebox bedroom is remarkably neater than we’ve seen it in the past, all that spring cleaning from last year having paid off. It’s at least decent enough that he’s allowing Riley to be in it -- though the reasoning for that is more likely the _lack_ of a certain someone or something.

Either way, they’re not staying long. Lucas hands the materials to Riley and they head out, discussing how long they think it’ll take to get uptown. Traffic is pretty dastardly today, apparently, especially around the venue.

**INT. LUCAS’S APARTMENT - DAY**

They duck out of Lucas’s room and he shuts the door behind him. He tells Riley to give him one second while he grabs one more thing from the closet, jogging out of sight down the tiny hallway. She says no worries, perfectly content to wait on her own and take in every last detail of his home given how rarely she’s allowed inside to see it.

When suddenly the door opens in the entryway. Riley freezes, staring towards the doorway. She braces herself for the worst, completely unsure what might happen or what she should do if he shows up. Worried about what might happen to Lucas…

But it’s not the worst. It’s only GRACE FRIAR, who mirrors Riley’s surprise as she enters the living area and finds her unexpectedly parked in her apartment. She’s dressed for work at the florist, dressed in a worn but pretty floral dress and an evergreen apron, light hair pulled back out of her face.

> **Riley, uncertainly:** Hi.

Lucas reappears in the next instant, having rushed back when he heard the noise. He’s relieved to find it’s only his mother, but barely. He quickly comes to stand at Riley’s side, evidently nervous at this turn of events. It was never part of his plan.

> **Lucas:** Mom. What are you doing here? I thought you weren’t going to be home.
> 
> **Grace, timid:** I swapped shifts with another employee. Since Kenneth is in Jersey for the game, I thought I’d try and see if I could free up my afternoon to see your showdown performance today. _[ glancing at Riley ]_ And I guess I got lucky.

Oh. That’s nice. Lucas wasn’t expecting it, uncertain what to say next. He only figures it out when he realizes how intently Riley and Grace are looking at each other, both fascinated and curious and definitely a bit nervous. He clears his throat, awkwardly scratching his neck.

> **Lucas:** Um, this is Riley. Riley, this is my mom.

Very informative, Lucas. But that’s all Riley needs, and with permission to interact, her bubbly charm does the rest. She steps forward, holding out a hand and offering a sincere smile.

> **Riley:** Hi again. It’s so nice to finally meet you.
> 
> **Grace:** _[ accepting her handshake ]_ Likewise. Unexpected, though… I suppose the best things in life are.

She chuckles anxiously, and Riley does her the favor of laughing along with her. So skilled at making others feel comfortable, like that’s just naturally how she operates.

> **Grace:** I’m sorry I’m so unprepared. If I had known I would’ve… cleaned up, or had something ready to…
> 
> **Riley:** Oh, please, no. Don’t worry about it. I’m the one intruding on you.
> 
> **Lucas:** And we’re just passing through. Picking up a couple things. _[ pointedly ]_ And we should go if we want to beat the traffic --
> 
> **Grace:** Right. Right, of course. Don’t let me get in your way.

Grace quickly steps to the side, an expert at making herself smaller. She skirts around them and gives them easy access to the entryway and a swift exit, wishing both of them luck with showdown. Hopefully she’ll be able to make it down there.

> **Riley, enthusiastically:** You definitely should. It’s going to be an amazing show. And our competition is notoriously tough to beat, so they should at _least_ be enjoyable.

With a pitch like that, how could she say no? Riley should do marketing for the showdown committee. And she could probably find generous ways to keep the conversation going for hours, but Lucas is keen to expedite this escape and gently nudges her towards the door. She gifts Grace one more goodbye before they depart.

Although she wasn’t prepared for it, Grace seems happy with the introduction. A light smile lingers on her face.

**INT. BABINEAUX HOME - DAY**

DONNA BABINEAUX pulls open the front door, finding Nigel and Yindra on the doorstep. Yindra already has her hair and make-up done, looking stellar, and Nigel’s hair is brushed up out of his face. Donna seems unsurprised to see them, stepping back and knowingly nodding towards the stairs.

> **Donna:** He’s in his room. Good luck.

Nigel and Yindra exchange a look.

**INT. BABINEAUX HOME - ZAY’S BEDROOM - DAY**

Zay is far from ready to roll, still wrapped up in his blankets and hunkered down to wallow. His boot rests on the floor at the foot of his bed.

He’s looking at videos on his phone, mainly of the days when he could dance. The semis routine, clips from rehearsals pre-injury, ones he recorded that he ended up using for his applications. Today is the day he’s supposed to be doing all of it, helping elevate Adams to victory.

And that’s not the only thing interspersed throughout his library as he flicks through files. There are videos of him with his friends, too, and the ones he always hovers on longer are the ones of Charlie. Ones that are now almost a year old, like them rehearsing in their usual studio together, goofing off, or where he didn’t even realize Zay was filming. The one he hesitates on longer than the rest involves Charlie laying where he is right now, bashful and uncontrollably giggling while Zay picks on him from off-screen.

It’s all mixed together, all haunting him in different ways, but it doesn’t set him off anymore. There’s no more aggressive fuel compensating for the loss, so now it simply aches. Crazy, how much has changed in so little time… how he has no idea how much of it will change back or inevitably shift again from underneath him…

Yindra and Nigel swing open his door, startling him. He quickly locks his phone and grumbles at them as to what the hell they’re doing.

> **Zay:** Why are you here? You can’t be all the way in Queens when you should be at the venue already.
> 
> **Yindra:** We know. It’s a calculated risk.
> 
> **Nigel:** But if we should be there, we could say the same to you.

Zay huffs, tossing his phone onto the covers and sinking deeper into his bed. They must have miscalculated, because they’re wasting precious time. He’s not performing, so he has no reason to be there like them. He’s not going.

They thought he might say that -- and they’re not taking no for an answer. Not now, on a day that means everything. In a surprisingly feisty move, Nigel leans forward and rips the blankets off him.

> **Nigel:** Get up.
> 
> **Zay:** Yo, what the hell --
> 
> **Yindra:** Damn, Nige.
> 
> **Zay:** What’s your deal? Did you not hear me? There is no reason for me to go. I can’t perform, and sitting there watching what I can’t do doesn’t sound like an exciting afternoon for me. I have nothing to contribute, so why should I bother?
> 
> **Nigel:** Bullshit.
> 
> **Yindra:** _Damn_ , Nige.
> 
> **Nigel:** That’s bullshit, Zay! You know it is. You have contributed plenty to our setlist -- you choreographed an entirely new routine in a week!
> 
> **Yindra:** True.
> 
> **Nigel:** We never would’ve been able to pull that off without you. And we still won’t if you’re not there, because I’m more than positive some of us are going to need refreshers right up until we get on that stage. You know, since again, we picked it up in a week.
> 
> **Yindra:** Also true.
> 
> **Nigel:** And even if that weren’t the case, it shouldn’t matter anyway. You should want to be there because this is _it_ , man. We have worked our butts off for three years to get to this point. And I agree, it sucks that you can’t be up there on dancing it out with us -- you know I think that. But that doesn’t mean you should forgo it all and crawl under a rock to wait it out. This is one of those experiences we’re going to remember forever, and I know you. You _don’t_ want to be the person who missed it all and can’t share in the memories because he didn’t even try. Even if you can’t be on stage yourself, you should want to show up for the rest of us. For Riley, for Yindra. For me. I think you want to, underneath your pride and your self-pity. _[ a beat ]_ And deep down, I think you know that if you tap out and skip it, you’re going to regret it forever.

Wow. It would be a good argument on its own, but since it’s coming from an impassioned Nigel, it’s _especially_ compelling. Yindra stares at her usually laid back, non-confrontational best friend, jaw hanging open slightly.

> **Yindra, hushed:** _Damn_ , Nigel! Where has this been for the last three years?

Yindra shifts her wide eyes to Zay. _You’re seeing this too, right?_ But Nigel doesn’t break, holding Zay’s gaze and continuing the encouragement with his classic Shakespearean smolder.

Finally, Zay relents. He pushes himself forward to the edge of the bed and asks them to hand him his boot, and for Yindra to grab something from his closet for him to throw on. They’re going to have to move fast if they want to get there on time.

> **Zay:** _[ as Yindra dashes to his closet ]_ Pick something fresh!
> 
> **Yindra, off-screen:** You insult me!

Nigel hands him his boot, Zay taking it gratefully. He meets his eyes again.

> **Zay:** Thanks for not leaving me behind.
> 
> **Nigel, sincere:** “To me, fair friend, you never can be old.”

Okay, Bard nerd. But it’s sweet, and the sentiment obviously means a lot to Zay.

**INT. SHOWDOWN FINALS VENUE - LOBBY - DAY**

Eric and Isadora arrive together, the latter in a rush to get backstage. She thanks Eric for driving and promises she’ll see him after the show, and he shouts a good luck after her in return.

Once he’s alone, he scans the room and all the well-dressed patrons mixing and mingling. An usher offers him a program and he takes it cheerfully, but he finally spots who he’s looking for before he can read it.

JACK HUNTER. It’s like he hasn’t been able to find him all week — and this seems like the kind of time where you want your principal to be around. He’s conversing with EVELYN RAND, charming and professional as always.

Eric heads over to join them, friendly but keeping that healthy distance between them after their discussion last week. Evelyn brightens when she sees him approaching, giving him a jolly hello and stating she better be off. Performances to see! But she is wishing the best of luck to them and the delegation from Adams.

Evelyn departs, leaving the two of them alone. They exchange warm greetings, though it’s muted from Jack. They mention all of the stuff they heard about the scramble the A class went through from Lucas and Isadora, noting the stacked odds.

> **Eric:** Well, all we can hope is that they managed to pull it together. They’ve done it before -- I believe they’ll do it again.
> 
> **Jack:** Yeah… yes, me too.

But given his own stacked odds at the moment, Jack’s belief doesn’t seem wholly convincing. Eric clocks his apprehension, the way he feels like a shade of his former self. He steps a little closer, dropping his voice to a murmur.

> **Eric:** Things will work out, Jack. You don’t have to disappear from the equation for things to work out.

Jack doesn’t seem convinced. Eric frowns. He starts to say more, but Jack’s eye has caught HARRISON YANCY across the room, mingling with JEFFERSON DAVIS GRAHAM and other prominent school board members. They cast a glance in his direction, unreadable, holding too much power in their hands.

Jack clears his throat, creating more distance between him and Eric as he starts to retreat.

> **Jack:** Should head on in. I believe Harper saved us a seat. Wouldn’t want to miss our competition’s performance.

Eric glances over his shoulder where Jack was looking, spotting the crowd of conservative board hawks. He scowls, starting to comment, but when he turns back around Jack is already gone.

**INT. RILEY’S CAR - DAY**

Lucas and Riley arrive around the same time, pulling into a parking spot and killing the engine. Lucas is behind the wheel today, and from how quiet the car is it seems there wasn’t much chatter on the drive over. The two of them sit in the silence for a moment, Riley searching for a way to broach the subject.

> **Riley:** … your mom seems really nice. It’s cool that she wants to come to showdown. You know, maybe we should’ve offered her a ride…
> 
> **Lucas, quickly:** I’m sorry about how I acted. That I like, rushed you out of there.
> 
> **Riley:** It’s okay. I figured it caught everyone by surprise.
> 
> **Lucas:** It’s not that I don’t want you to meet her. Or don’t want her to meet you. I’m not trying to hide you or anything. _[ scoffing ]_ Honestly, if there’s anything in my life worth showing off, I know full well what it is. And it’s not like I think she wouldn’t like you -- I mean, it’s impossible not to.

Riley smiles, bashful. He’s still nervous, keeping his eyes on the keys rather than her, but he pushes through the vulnerability anyway. Really trying.

> **Lucas:** It’s just that… things with them… me and my parents, it’s not… it’s weird. They’ve never -- my mom, she doesn’t even really feel like… it’s more like we’re… I don’t know, roommates rather than blood. Prisonmates, sometimes. _[ chuckling awkwardly, then frowning; he just can’t say anything right ]_ It’s not that I don’t… I know she cares about me. In her way. I just didn’t… it’s hard to explain. It’s all kinda fucked up, and I didn’t want to get you all… tangled into it. _[ a beat ]_ But I don’t want you thinking it’s because of you, because it’s not.

He said more than enough. Riley reaches across the console and gently touches his cheek, waiting for him to meet her eyes.

> **Riley:** It’s okay. I understand. But thank you for telling me.

Lucas nods. She turns the light touch into a caress, stroking her thumb against his cheekbone. He closes his eyes and leans into the gesture.

> **Riley:** She really did seem lovely. Pretty, and super sweet. _[ fondly ]_ I see her in you.

It’s possible no one has ever said that to Lucas before. He processes the compliment, letting it sink in, then manages a shy smile. He takes her hand in his own, pressing a soft kiss to her palm and then linking their fingers together.

They soak in the peace, the kind they can always rely on to find with each other… and they’re going to need it, because it won’t last long inside that venue…

**INT. SHOWDOWN FINALS VENUE - DRESSING ROOM HALL - DAY**

Case in point, backstage it’s a circus as performers scramble to get ready. Isadora is marching through the chaos, back in stage manager mode, trying to account for everybody and figure out what fires are still left to be put out. One of which would be the fact that so many people from their team still aren’t here -- Nigel and Yindra; Jade with the costumes; Farkle; Riley and Lucas.

She shouts amidst the group if anyone has seen any of them. Darby stops mid-jog to the girls dressing room.

> **Darby:** Farkle is already here, I saw him. We were a couple of the first to arrive.
> 
> **Isadora:** And where is he now?
> 
> **Darby:** No idea. But he’s around here somewhere!
> 
> **Isadora:** Perfect. That’s so helpful. Absolutely enlightening information!

Isadora whips around just as Riley and Lucas make their way into the hall. She exhales a dramatic sigh, complimenting them sarcastically for finally making it. At least _somebody_ can roll up when they’re needed. The two of them exchange a _yikes_ look, scooting around Isadora carefully so as not to detonate her further.

> **Isadora:** And where the hell are Nigel and Yindra?!

**INT. NIGEL’S CAR - MOVING - DAY**

Nigel and Yindra are en route, but “moving” might be a misleading slugline. They’re stuck in that bumper-to-bumper traffic Riley and Lucas were discussing, tensions high as they race to make it to the venue.

> **Yindra:** This is going to give me high blood pressure! Can’t you go any faster, Nigel?
> 
> **Nigel:** GO? GO _WHERE_ , YINDRA? I CAN’T GO FASTER WHEN WE’RE _STOPPED_.

Zay leans forward between them from the middle backseat, breaking into their bickering to inform them of updates from Riley. They’re transitioning into the performing arts section of the program, which means the clock is ticking down by the second. Yindra and Nigel continue to bicker, volume rising under the stress, until Zay finally smacks Nigel’s shoulder to get his attention.

> **Nigel:** WHAT?
> 
> **Zay:** GREEN LIGHT. CARS MOVING.
> 
> **Yindra:** GO! GO! GO!
> 
> **Nigel:** _AHHHHHHHHHHHHH_ \--

Nigel hits the gas, and they’re moving once again --

**INT. SHOWDOWN FINALS VENUE - BACKSTAGE - DAY**

Riley is concealed in the shadows of the wings, watching nervously as another school from a different league showdown completes their routine. Based on the music playing, they’re going for a more classical repertoire, but Riley seems grateful they don’t have even more competition to be worried about than just Haverford.

She leans forward just enough to peer through the curtain, still hidden but able to glimpse the grand house beyond the stage. It seems like a pretty packed audience, and somewhere out there are the judges who will decide their fate. Their standing against Haverford, the future of Lucas’s scholarship initiative, the spirit of her class… the weight of all the above resting on her shoulders and creating the subtle frown on her face.

> **Brandon:** Nice accommodations, aren’t they?

Riley spins and comes face to face with Brandon. He’s already dressed in his performance attire -- no longer quite as glossy and more refined to contrast AAA’s original shiny style -- but he’s taken the time to double check that everything is right where it needs to be for their setlist… and apparently, to run into her.

> **Brandon:** I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure of formally meeting yet, Riley. _[ offering a hand ]_ Brandon Rivas.

She’s not eager to change that, but Riley is socially savvy. She knows how to play things right, so she mirrors his pleasant smile and accepts the handshake.

> **Riley:** Oh, I’ve heard all about you. But I’m sure you already know that.
> 
> **Brandon:** Guilty as charged. There’s not much I don’t know. But it would be hard for me not to know you, considering how often Charles has talked about you. He speaks highly of you, rest assured.
> 
> **Riley:** That I believe. Charlie is a good friend. I wouldn’t expect any less from him.
> 
> **Brandon:** Yes… he is, isn’t he.

They exchange a couple more small talk niceties, including Riley mentioning that she’s heard they were quite impressive at semis. Both of them have their work cut out for them, facing each other. Brandon shrugs humbly, then claims he should go gather the boys. The team on stage is wrapping up, and then they’ve only got 10 minutes to show. But he’s pleased they had the chance to meet.

> **Brandon:** Good to confer leader to leader -- makes for good sportsmanship. I know there are power structures in place at Adams, but to my understanding, it’s you who pulls the strings across the park. The true brains of the operation.

Well, if we’re aiming for good sportsmanship, the Havies are already laps behind. And Riley clearly doesn’t like his tone, what he’s subtly implying about her friends -- including and especially her boyfriend.

But she doesn’t show it, merely sharpening her smile instead.

> **Riley:** I wouldn’t underestimate any of my cohort.

Tell him, Riles! Brandon starts to back off, easing further into the shadows.

> **Brandon:** Break a leg -- though you probably can’t afford many more of those, can you?

Oh, shots _are_ being fired. Riley’s expression twitches, but she doesn’t give him the satisfaction of a response. She releases a pointed exhale once he’s gone, the audience launching into applause behind her indicating that the time to bring it is in fact inching closer and closer…

**EXT. SHOWDOWN FINALS VENUE - ROOFTOP - DAY**

The exterior of the venue is less glamorous but just as stunning as the interior. A beautiful rooftop terrace acts as a place for guests to mingle during intermissions or events, similar to the outer walkways of the Kennedy Center. It provides a gorgeous view of the city stretched out around them, the sky a hazy periwinkle on this chilly early December afternoon.

Farkle seems to be enjoying the cold, though. He’s perched on a bench looking out towards the south of the island, just glimpsing the peak of his building in the financial district. He closes his eyes and inhales deep, absorbing the cold air and letting it cool his nerves. He’s hiding his costume under his coat, but we can see the beginnings of what the aesthetic might be given the stardust-like eyeshadow and eyeliner he’s sporting.

His momentary peace is destroyed when Isadora slams open the door and stomps towards him, hands on hips.

> **Isadora:** There you are! Do you know how stressed I am already attempting to manage everyone before this absolutely convoluted last-minute showdown showcase without you deciding to disappear off the face of the earth? Why the hell are you out here?

A couple of other patrons stare at them, then awkwardly retreat towards the other side of the roof. _Theater kids._ Farkle glances around them to see if anyone else reacted, then mutters a halfhearted apology. Isadora sighs, unimpressed, but shifts her demeanor to be less threatening (or at least, she tries).

> **Isadora:** What’s going on with you? You haven’t been in your right mind recently and I’m starting to worry. 
> 
> **Farkle, dryly:** Do I even have a right mind to be in? 
> 
> **Isadora:** I’m assuming that’s rhetorical, so I won’t respond. Just tell me what’s wrong and I’ll fix it. 
> 
> **Farkle:** Nothing you can do. Or anybody. I’m cursed. This is just something I have to deal with on my own.

Isadora scoffs and rolls her eyes. 

> **Isadora:** You’re being such a little bitch right now. 
> 
> **Farkle, surprised:** Excuse me?
> 
> **Isadora:** You’ve been spaced out for days, you drop out of the showcase, you hide yourself away from everybody. Fine, do what you have to do. But at least tell me why. Don’t just sit there moaning like a crybaby about dealing with it by yourself. If you tell me, then you don’t have to do it alone. Simple. 
> 
> **Farkle:** But there’s nothing you can do to help. Why bother you with my stuff when you’re so stressed already?

With a sigh, Isadora sits down next to him. 

> **Isadora:** You being all depressed and closed off is one of the main things stressing me out, for your information. 
> 
> **Farkle:** _[ relenting ]_ Fine. My therapist told me that I’m bipolar.

And there it is. Out in the open, even if Farkle looks extremely sulky while saying so. Isadora nods at the reveal, not all that surprised. 

> **Isadora:** That makes sense. It was one of the things I suspected you might have. 
> 
> **Farkle:** _One_ of?
> 
> **Isadora:** Oh, I had a whole list of possible diagnoses for you. How are you dealing with it? You don’t seem particularly happy about it.

No kidding. Farkle explains how he’s struggling to grapple with the diagnosis, and how it’s thrown his entire sense of identity into question. Isadora listens to him carefully, nodding along while she thinks. 

> **Isadora:** I get that. When my social worker first told me that she suspected I might be autistic, I hated it. I only knew about autism through Rain Man and Sheldon Cooper, so I wasn’t thrilled. I thought it meant that I was an antisocial freak who could never make friends. But as I learned more about it, the more I like… made sense to myself. It wasn’t just me against the world anymore -- there were other people out there like me, who understood me. 
> 
> **Farkle:** I’ve been researching a lot, but that hasn’t helped. 
> 
> **Isadora:** Have you joined any online communities? Read about it from an actual bipolar person’s perspective?

Farkle admits that he hasn’t, so Isadora suggests that he do that. 

> **Isadora:** I know that right now it’s scary -- like your entire world has changed and you no longer fit into it. But you’re still the same Farkle, and we’re still the same world. Nothing has changed except for a label; a label which will allow you to access resources that will actually _help_ you. 
> 
> **Farkle:** What helped you come to terms with your diagnosis? 
> 
> **Isadora:** Lucas and Riley. I got diagnosed in middle school, and I didn’t really have any friends then. When I started at Triple A, I did a lot of research on how to cope in high school and make friends. It all felt way too forced and awkward, and I was so sure that I would never have any. That because of the way I was, I would also be an outcast. _[ a beat as she remembers ]_ With Lucas, everything happened naturally. We just clicked, and started to spend almost all our time together. 
> 
> **Farkle, under his breath:** Codependency...
> 
> **Isadora:** He made me realize that I _could_ have friends, and that I was enough exactly as I am. Then, sophomore year, Riley came along. I had to make an effort to be friends with her, there was compromise and a lot of learning moments. She helped me whenever I was struggling and didn’t judge me for my mistakes. They both accepted and loved me wholly. _[ looking to Farkle ]_ I accept and love you wholly, Farkle. And I will be here to help you figure it out, I promise.

As Isadora gives him a warm smile, Farkle seems unable to speak. His eyes are glossy, but shining with something else too as he looks at her. He swallows before thanking her.

She stands up and offers him a hand.

> **Isadora:** Will you come downstairs and participate now?

Despite not needing to, Farkle takes Isadora’s hand to help pull him up. Isadora lets go as soon as he’s up, but he’ll take it. As the bouncy and energetic percussion of “Seize the Day” slowly grows louder from below…

**INT. SHOWDOWN FINALS VENUE - AUDITORIUM - DAY**

Haverford is running through the tail-end of their opening number, giving an excellent show already. Considering Brandon gifted Charlie the opportunity to take the solo in the first place, he steps back into it effortlessly, so it’s not as though they’re completely hobbled without him. Still, the dancing isn’t quite as precise, not exactly as compelling, and Brandon lacks his earnest spark that left such an impression the first time around.

But they’re not at all out of the race. They’re still intimidating competition to be up against, and they’re leaving nothing to chance. The applause is effusive as the lights dim and they wrap up the _Newsies_ number, quickly rearranging formation to get ready for the next one.

This is when Charlie makes his entrance, quietly moving through the house and finding a couple free seats in the back center section. He settles into a spot just as Haverford is beginning their second, new number, the lights brightening again.

* * *

**Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Sherry” as performed by Franki Valli & The Four Seasons || Performed by Haverford Seniors**

Dweezil starts us off front and center, the rest of the boys standing in formation behind him as the jaunty, rhythmic orchestration kicks off. He takes the lead due to his impressive falsetto, and when he starts to step along in some simple movements to the beat, the boys layer in on the harmonies and echo his movements. It creates that same chilling, enchanting effect they showed us from their first performance in 301, the sensation of watching a machine in perfect sync.

And Brandon’s strategic adjustment of their setlist is on full display with their new choice. It’s indisputably classic, a callback to different times and classier days, which is a major deviation from AAA’s original contemporary setlist. The simple choreography allows them to emphasize their well-oiled machine feature, and the choice shows off their harmonies and vocal range just as much if not better than another pop hit from PRETTYMUCH.

It’s impossible not to tap your foot along, and without a doubt will butter up the older judges who feel rosy about that era. Say what you want about Brandon, but there’s no denying the man thinks of everything.

* * *

**INT. SHOWDOWN FINALS VENUE - PARKING GARAGE - DAY**

Nigel, Yindra, and Zay finally arrive, wasting no time in hopping out of the car and booking it. Nigel freezes halfway around the front, eyes wide, while Zay scrambles to get out of the backseat with one good foot.

> **Nigel:** Pass. I need a pass. Where do I get a pass?
> 
> **Yindra:** _[ slamming the car door ]_ No time!
> 
> **Nigel:** I need a pass or I’m gonna get a ticket!
> 
> **Yindra:** THEN GET A TICKET.

Nigel lets out another exasperated yell, hoping for the best and starting to sprint after Yindra. Zay tries to hobble after them, but he’s not nearly fast enough.

> **Zay:** Um, guys --
> 
> **Nigel:** Zay --
> 
> **Zay:** No, it’s fine. I’ll make it eventually. Go on without me. Save yourselves.
> 
> **Nigel:** I swear, damn Shakespearean tragedy in this trio --

Yindra glances between them, then back at Zay, conflicted. But she doesn’t want to leave him behind…

> **Yindra:** Oh, for fuck’s sake.

**EXT. SHOWDOWN FINALS VENUE - DAY**

The three of them emerge from the garage and make for the steps up to the main entrance, Yindra now _carrying_ Zay piggyback style while Nigel takes the lead. He makes it to the top of the steps, shouting for them to hurry up.

> **Yindra:** Excuse me, you’re not the one carrying another person! No, _I_ had to because of your frail vegetarian bones!
> 
> **Nigel:** Vegetarianism has nothing to do with your bones, in fact studies show it improves --
> 
> **Yindra/Zay:** NOT NOW.
> 
> **Zay:** Go, go, go!

Nigel holds open the door for them to zoom past, diving in after them.

**INT. SHOWDOWN FINALS VENUE - DRESSING ROOM - DAY**

The A class has assembled in the dressing room together while the Havies finish their set. They’re mostly all dressed up and ready to go, though it’s obvious elements of their costumes are missing.

The girls are dressed in shimmery leotards with intricate detailing on the bodices, alternating in either silver or gold, and lower halves that are closer to shorts than an actual leotards would be. The only exception is Yindra’s, still hanging on the rack, which is ruby red. They also vary in sleeve length, some closer to tanks while others have long sleeves similar to [this](https://media.glamour.com/photos/5c2e38c8bcf71f2dc21d3d19/6:7/w_1200,h_1400,c_limit/taylor-swift-river.jpg). The boys are dressed in red dress shirts that appear to match the design of the leotards, but they’re currently concealed under sleek but breathable black suit jackets, and their pants are silky and alternate in either silver or gold.

On top of traditional stage makeup, the girls also have a bit of rouge to accent the color scheme and bright red lips. Every single one of the performers has shimmery gold eyeshadow accenting their eyeliner, and Darby and Chai are taking careful care to give each of them a sprinkling of crimson rhinestones just around the corners of their eyes.

Riley is just finishing up pinning her hair, styled so it’s tumbling stylishly over one shoulder but will hold. She’s been trying to keep it cool all afternoon but the nerves are starting to creep up on her now -- especially since once again so many of them are missing down to the wire. Maybe they won’t be able to pull it together in the nick of time after all…

Isadora is also feeling the pressure, marching back into the dressing room with Farkle in tow. Her tenderness from that conversation is long gone. Darby gestures Farkle over to get his crimson added, while Isadora threatens to implode over the fact that certain people _still_ aren’t here. Are they _trying_ to send her into cardiac arrest? Maya raises her eyebrows from where she’s volumizing her award-winning golden locks, fussing it up with her hands to give it that starkissed quality.

> **Maya:** Wow. Is that what I sound like?
> 
> **Yogi:** Most of the time, yes.
> 
> **Maya:** Well. Happy to hear I sound like a passionate, intense woman with vision.

Chai tries to calm Isadora, tentatively reaching out and patting her shoulder. Isadora allows the touch, willing to take serenity from any source right now.

Sarah, Missy, and Nate all rush into the room at the same time, claiming that they’ve bought them a little more time. Sarah says she complained to one of the stage managers so much about something nitpicky that they almost started crying, so now they’re pausing to fix it; Nate straight up just stole one of the announcers microphones and hid it so now they’re stalling to look for it. And Missy paid off one of the stagehands to get the crowd to do a 7th-inning style stretch like in baseball, just for theater nerds.

> **Darby:** Seriously? I didn’t think they’d go with something silly like that.
> 
> **Missy:** When someone slides over a few hundreds, people will do anything.

Maybe so. If it buys them even a few more minutes before they have to get ready to hit their marks, so be it.

Thankfully, the cavalry rolls up just in time. Nigel and Yindra race through the doors, everyone exclaiming palpable relief. Yindra waves them all off and immediately grabs her leotard to start changing, wondering if they’ve gotten the rest of their costumes yet. Zay limps in a few moments later, everyone greeting him cheerfully in spite of their anxieties.

Riley slides over and pulls him into a tight hug.

> **Riley:** I’m so glad you came.
> 
> **Zay:** Yeah, well, I’ve got good friends and am attracting wake-up calls like a magnet these days. Honestly, if this one could be the last one for a while, I’d appreciate it.

With that, Zay wishes all of them the best of luck, assuring them he’ll be out there cheering them on. They cheer him off, then frantically go back to pulling themselves together.

The last missing link swoops in just as Zay disappears, Jade entering to great fanfare with Dave, Jeff, and Lucas on her heels. They’re carrying the last remaining costume pieces, basically hot off the sewing machine, Jade holding a pretty-looking gauzy fabric in her arms while the boys are holding bulkier items.

> **Jade:** Okay, now we’re ready to roll.
> 
> **Riley, in awe:** Jade, you are a _genius_.

All of them gleefully commend Jade for her hard work, swarming the boys to get their last costume piece -- for the girls, blazers similar to the ones the boys already have. But they’re glossy silver and gold, at least as far as we can see. Nigel is staring at Jade, mouth parted open, once again struck by how she manages to pull off the impossible.

> **Jade:** Make sure you’re picking one that matches your leotard, and remember when you do the reverse to move gently, even though you’re moving fast. These are durable, but you don’t want to risk tearing it apart in the middle of the set.

Then Jade gestures Yindra forward, handing off the last piece to her. She tells her how to put it on and fasten it correctly, and also how to remove it correctly while still allowing for showy flair. But she knows she can handle it -- and it was custom-made for her, so.

> **Yindra:** My very own Jade Beamon original. _[ with a grin ]_ Coveted rite of diva passage.

Jade beams. But their nice moment is interrupted -- and from a very uncommon source of interruption, at that.

> **Nigel, boldly:** Jade.

She jumps lightly, swiveling to find him. Yindra makes a face, stepping back a bit, and it’s like the seas part for them to be able to see each other. The entire A class goes silent -- a rare feat -- watching the interaction with rapt interest.

> **Jade:** … yes?

Well, he’s done it now. Now is the moment to say what he needs to say -- if he fumbles it now, he may not ever get the frenzied courage to speak again. He takes a deep breath, holding her gaze, speaking confidently even though he’s breathless.

> **Nigel:** You are the most incredible person I’ve ever met.

Jade has stopped breathing, standing like a deer in headlights at the center of the room. She knows all eyes are on her, and that shy part of her core is quaking… but there’s a hopeful gleam in her eyes, too. An electricity that doesn’t let her look away, doesn’t let her even think about escape. And she doesn’t want to anyway. This moment is something she’s daydreamed about since she was fourteen... is it finally actually happening…

> **Jade:** … yeah?
> 
> **Nigel:** Yes. You outshine everything else. You never cease to amaze me, you consistently pull off the impossible. You’re insanely talented, and yet you’re one of the most down-to-earth people I know. I like down-to-earth.

With each statement, Nigel slowly closes the distance between them, coming to join her at the center. She doesn’t stop him, not able to do anything but keep looking at him.

> **Nigel:** I like you.
> 
> **Jade:** Oh.
> 
> **Nigel:** And I know I’m quiet, and hesitant, and don’t usually speak my mind. I’ve been distracted, and clueless, and some have even called me a chickenshit.
> 
> **Yindra, quietly:** Well, we don’t need to bring that up right now...
> 
> **Nigel:** I know all that, and I know it hurt you. It made you unsure, and I completely get that. But I’m not distracted now. I’ve got a clue. And I’m not scared anymore.

He’s right in front of her now, only a bit of space between them. Jade gazes up at him, holding her ground, but that hopeful gleam has spread into an aura. It’s bouncing between them, it’s filling up the room.

> **Nigel, softly:** And I don’t know if I’ll ever stop being quiet --
> 
> **Jade:** … I like quiet…
> 
> **Nigel:** But I’m speaking up now. I’ll speak as loud as I need to make sure you hear it. I like you. I like you, Jade Beamon. And if you’re not too busy being the incredible woman you are… I’d like to take you on a date.

_Whew!_ The class is holding their breath, riveted like it’s their very own TV show, waiting to see what happens next. There’s a pause, a beat of uncertainty where we don’t know what direction things are going to go… and then Jade breaks into a smile.

> **Jade:** Yeah. _[ nodding eagerly ]_ Yeah, okay, I’d like that.

_VICTORY!_ Not the main one of the evening, but a victory nonetheless. Nigel mirrors her smile, obviously relieved, as the Yogi starts an uproarious clap that the rest of the class echoes. Once they’ve just a few moments to soak it in, Lucas clears his throat.

> **Lucas:** This is nice, and everything, but is it really the best time…

Nigel snaps his head to look at him, smile dropping. His expression is incredulous.

> **Nigel:** Are you _kidding_ me? For real? As if you all haven’t been making dramatic scenes and making everything about you for the last _three years_?!
> 
> **Maya:** Well.
> 
> **Nigel:** But no, I make _one_ statement _one_ time --
> 
> **Yindra, to Darby:** I swear, whatever Nigel is on today, I want some of it.

His (perhaps righteous) tirade towards the mains is cut short, though, an usher popping his head in and explaining that they finally found that missing microphone. So they should be backstage for places in about five minutes and counting.

That’s one way to get everyone back on track. Lucas tells Dave and Nate to go head backstage, the two of them exchanging quick bro hugs with Dylan, Asher, and Jeff and wishing them luck before they zoom off. Lucas takes one last second to reach Riley, taking her hand and accepting the brief kiss she gives him automatically. They keep their foreheads pressed together, pretending for an instant amidst the chaos that it’s just the two of them.

> **Lucas:** You look amazing. You’re going to kill this thing.
> 
> **Riley:** Ditto _. [ breathy ]_ I love you.

Lucas nods, opening his mouth as if he’s going to respond. Like he’s going to say it back, like it’s right on the tip of his tongue… but it doesn’t come. Not yet. He kisses her again instead, pointedly, then he pulls away and dashes out after Nate and Dave. Missy eyes him as he goes, expression hard to read.

Riley takes a deep breath, holds it, lets it go, and spins to rally the troops together. She gathers them in a circle and Maya leads them in an empowering but kickass -- and classically Maya -- pep talk to hype them up. Then Dylan takes the lead, putting his hand in the middle. The rest of them follow without hesitation, and he leads them in the war-cry pump-up ritual he usually leads the techies in before shows. _Let’s go, Triple A. Let’s go, Triple A. LET’S GO, TRIPLE A --_

Then they throw their arms in the air, full to bursting with infectious energy as they look towards the ceiling -- or in this case, at us, looking down on them from above.

_LET’S GO!_

* * *

**_Break 2._ **

* * *

**INT. SHOWDOWN FINALS VENUE - LOBBY - DAY**

A couple of light dings and the venue lights dimming and rising indicate to those mingling outside that the intermission between competitors is nearing its end. Charlie finishes the cup of water he was drinking, tossing it into the recycling and turning to head back towards the auditorium -- when he locks eyes with Zay, also slowly making his way in that direction from the dressing room hall. Charlie approaches uncertainly.

> **Charlie:** Hi.
> 
> **Zay, awkwardly:** Hey. _[ eyeing his plain clothes ]_ What are you doing out here? Shouldn’t you be backstage, embroiled in a post-performance high?
> 
> **Charlie:** _[ with a nervous laugh ]_ Actually, no. I chose not to perform.

Zay raises his eyebrows, surprised. His non-answer begs for further explanation, though, so Charlie shyly elaborates.

> **Charlie:** It just didn’t feel right. Don’t get me wrong, it was fun, getting to be front and center for a time. Try something new. But going up against you all… I don’t know. Just didn’t feel like me.
> 
> **Zay:** I bet nefarious factors behind the scenes didn’t improve that feeling either.
> 
> **Charlie:** No, yeah… yeah, that didn’t help. _[ with a shrug ]_ Oh well. Just one performance, right? No big deal.

But it is. It’s one of _the_ biggest deals of the year, and they both know it. Charlie sacrificed his chance to be a part of it, and risked a lot more in telling them the truth so they could save their routine -- and yet, that doesn’t feel out of character for him at all. Zay knows all too well.

> **Zay:** Well, at least you didn’t fully turn yourself over to the dark side. _[ off his amused head shake ]_ I guess it’s nice to hear that even with all the other changes, you’ve managed to remember who you are.
> 
> **Charlie:** … maybe, yeah. But thanks. That means a lot, coming from you.

He should know, as perhaps the only person who ever _really_ knew him in the first place. The sentiment lingers between them, trapping them back in that uncertain space of not knowing exactly where they stand. It looks like Charlie wants to say more, but the intercom dings again, signaling that Adams’ performance is imminent.

> **Charlie:** It’s great you could be here to support them, though. Even though you can’t perform yourself. _[ a beat ]_ I’ve got a seat open next to me… you know, if you haven’t settled anywhere yet.

Another beat of hesitancy… and then Zay nods.

> **Zay:** Since the rest of my crew is a little busy… yeah. That’d be cool.

Just the right amount of arrogance and graciousness, and a perfect dose of Zay. Charlie smiles instinctively, the two of them heading towards the doors together.

**INT. SHOWDOWN FINALS VENUE - AUDITORIUM - DAY**

The lights dim, the announcer introducing Adams Academy of the Arts as the next showcase. The curtain is closed, and behind it the performers are heading to their places. Dave, Nate, and Jade, dressed in all black, are gearing up their rolling flats backstage for when they’re needed. A few rows of steps have been installed in the back leading to a high point where a doorway disappears to backstage, but nearly all of the A class is arranged in windows in front of it on the stage. They’re facing away from the audience, which is nice, because it gives them the chance to steel themselves before the number truly kicks off and the games begin.

Riley weaves through her classmates, wishing them all good luck as she finds her place on the stage. And just in the nick of time, as the announcers are just wrapping up their summary of their team and passing them the floor.

**INT. SHOWDOWN FINALS VENUE - TECHNICIAN’S BOOTH - DAY**

Lucas is up in the booth, headset on, fitting in surprisingly well with the rest of the professional technicians working the event. He’s on the lighting board, sound levels a reach away, and the other workers give him a wide berth to do whatever he needs to do. His glare is determined.

**INT. SHOWDOWN FINALS VENUE - AUDITORIUM - DAY**

So, without further ado… Riley takes a deep breath, centering herself. The curtain rises...

It’s now or never. The time has finally come for Adams to showcase everything they’ve got -- and they are going to damn well try.

* * *

**Song Cue ♫ ♪ “There She Goes! / Fame” as performed by _Fame - The Musical_ Original Cast || Performed by Yindra Amino (feat. AAA Seniors)**

We’ve heard this track before, back in Maya’s dream sequence, but it’s got a new coat of paint and we’re turning the volume up to eleven. Yindra appears at the top of the stairs to kick off the vocals, the A class still theatrically turned towards her. Her full costume is now apparent, the final piece a sheer gauzy red dress wrap, similar to what [Taylor Swift](https://akns-images.eonline.com/eol_images/Entire_Site/201849/rs_634x1024-180509052744-634-Taylor-Swift-Rep-Tour-AZ-3-LT-050918.jpg?fit=around%7C634:1024&output-quality=90&crop=634:1024;center,top) wore on her reputation Tour. It’s vibrant and saucy, perfect to swish and flick as Yindra steals the show.

About thirty seconds in she begins her descent down the stairs, Dylan and Jeff jogging up the steps to meet her and guide her down. When they get close to the bottom, they lift her by the arms and do a spin, placing back down as the A class parts to let her through. She makes it through the class and playfully flirts with most of them as she goes, matching the tone of the number effortlessly. She makes it back to the steps just in time for the belt before the dance break, lifting her arms to the sky and swinging her hips.

_Everything is beautiful up here in the clouds!_

Then we jump into the dance, really allowing the A class to take flight. They sharply in unison, demonstrating only the first tastes of Zay’s savvy choreography. Yindra makes it back to the front to lead the pack when they get to the chorus ( _“Fame! I wanna live forever…”_ )

Then an unexpected soloist takes over when we switch into Spanish, Asher jumping to the front and channeling diva. He’s the only boy with his suit jacket unbuttoned, letting more red bleed through and also helping him stand out. The reason he can stomach taking on the challenge is clear with Dylan right behind him, acting as his dance partner and taking center stage with him when they shift to the salsa bit at 2:20. The rest of the A class has paired off too, including Haley & Clarissa, Jeff & Yindra, Isadora & Chai, and Farkle & Riley.

Asher delivers a killer vocal run, and it appears he has been doing his stretches since “If I Didn’t Have You” in 302, because this time when Dylan dips him at the transition, they nail it perfectly.

Then the dance truly takes over, the front of the stage clearing for solo dance moments to take spotlight. This starts with Haley, doing a few ballet moves, and then passes to other classmates -- Chai, Maya with a dazzling split and leg kick. But the true star of the dance break is Jeff, bringing those promised break dance moves and earning cheers from the audience. Then he and Yindra dance together for the remainder of the break, making impressive salsa partners and definitely fulfilling a daydream for her little lesbian crush on him.

As the dance break winds down, Yindra makes her way back up the steps, the boys chasing her up, so that when she starts again on the pre-chorus ( _“I’m on top of the charts…”_ ), she can lean on them effortlessly. She slides across Dylan’s shoulders and then leans into a lift, Dylan, Farkle, Nigel, and Yogi holding her sideways across them and bringing her back down to the stage. On the next line ( _“I’m on top in their hearts…”_ ), the boys rotate her around before depositing her front and center stage again.

As she launches into the final chorus at about 3:45, Yindra backs into dead center as her classmates weave in circles around her, the vocals and energy building in intensity. The lights glow from their rosy, warm hues and transition closer and closer to red. On the last line, Yindra gives it her all, allowing Dylan and Nigel to lift her up onto their shoulders high above the rest as she throws her arms up in a final declarative diva pose.

_Remember my name!_

* * *

The lights turn blood red, casting the A class in shadow. The resounding applause is well earned. Zay and Charlie are on the edge of their seats, clapping enthusiastically. Assuming correctly that that was the dance standout of the set, Charlie braves nudging Zay with his elbow, which he glances at and then smiles in return.

Backstage, though, Haverford seems less pleased. This is not at all what they saw from semis. Brandon glowers with his arms crossed, Billy shaking his head in frustration behind him.

On stage, the A class works quickly in the brief transition. Nigel strips off his suit jacket and hands it to Yindra, who has just stripped off her sheer dress and is now down to her ruby leotard that otherwise matches her peers. She slips on the jacket while the other A class girls take theirs off and flip them inside out, now also black like the boys. Nate darts on stage to grab the discarded dress and then all the boys disperse, leaving just the A class girls on stage in a line with their heads downcast. The anticipation builds…

* * *

**Song Cue ♫ ♪ “The Man” as performed by Taylor Swift || Performed by AAA Senior Ladies**

_[ Lyrics specific to characters -- follow along[here](https://docs.google.com/document/d/1dPIEw89ZkvdKSUQZV6sGsFh4-cUVwyxxLzre4L0yTTI/edit?usp=sharing)! ]_

Maya brings the setlist back to life, tilting her chin up and launching into the first verse. She moves sharply but fluidly, reanimating each of her fellow girls as she struts and spins past them along the front of the stage. When she reaches the end and spots Brandon scowling in the wings, she gives him a cocky little head tilt, flipping her hair as she spins back around.

_Every conquest I made would make me more of a boss to you_

Riley takes over from there as the “fearless leader,” and from there it’s a strong, upbeat showing from the senior A class women. Each one has a solo, as indicated by the lyric sheet, and the choreography is simple but effective. Their reversible blazers show off Jade’s creative costuming as well as echo the presence of the boys in the previous number, driving home the theme.

Brandon isn’t the only one who can strategize a setlist. With this female-dominated interlude, Adams not only showcases one of the biggest assets they have against Haverford -- women -- they essentially get a fun musical fuck-you towards them out of it too.

All the girls come together for the end of the number, creating a sisterhood-type formation with their arms around each other and at varying levels -- crouching, standing straight, etc. -- while Maya stands front center. She delivers the airy final lyrics, a teasing smile on her lips as she smirks at the audience.

_If I was a man… then I’d be the man…_

* * *

The lights dim again, darkening the stage for transition into the final number in AAA’s setlist. Eric glances to his program, eyes widening in surprise. He elbows Harper and leans over to talk to both her and Jack.

> **Eric:** They did _everything_ for this by themselves?

Harper nods proudly. That’s right! And as for why Eric is so surprised, we’re about to find out. This is the time to make a lasting impression… as the lights rise on Adams’ final number…

* * *

**Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Bellas Finals Mash Up” as performed by Pitch Perfect Original Cast || Performed by AAA Seniors**

_[ Lyrics specific to characters -- follow along[here](https://docs.google.com/document/d/1N5NEzOjbk0y-8KndtjU6GAdo9663kBo-odHNttiUxok/edit?usp=sharing)! ]_

Okay, quick disclaimer. The mash-up performed here is not the same arrangement as the Barden Bellas. But we aren’t mash-up creators, nor would we ever pretend to be (I only write fake lyrics on TV), and this performance has the perfect ebb and flow of how we envision the A class’s final track unfolds. So while we’re providing a lyric sheet and encouraging you to listen to the song to get immersed in what the performance would feel like, keep in mind that it wouldn’t be the exact same songs and arrangement.

But it is impressive, because for the A class mash-up, they put it together all on their own. Farkle, Nate, and Clarissa wrote and arranged the conglomeration of songs, and they made it a capella for easier preparation. So it’s nothing but high energy and the A class harmonizing powerfully throughout -- putting a dent in Haverford’s usual boast of having mastery of harmonies unlike anyone else.

The A class starts demurely on stage, back in group formation, Nigel at the front to kick us off. His smooth, unassuming tenor is perfect for the gentle opening, easing the crowd back into the music before the performance erupts in a burst of sound, movement, and energy. All of them strip off their suit jackets and toss them aside, Yogi energetically taking over the next part of the mash-up with more of a rap-like, fast-paced cadence. With the suit jackets gone, Jade’s designs finally shine at full power -- intricate and mesmerizing design on both the leotards and dress shirts, each one the slightest bit unique yet a united aesthetic, creating a shimmering, captivating visual like firelight as they move and dance. Behind them, Nate and Dave inconspicuously but groovily swoop and grab all of the discarded jackets that didn’t make it backstage, both not meant to be noticed and yet seamlessly a part of the performance.

As the mash-up transitions into a more thoughtful ballad type -- though that infectious engine is still running underneath it all -- Riley takes the reins, bringing her usual level of enchantment as she moves along to the beat and weaves around her classmates, dancing with each of them.

When she makes it back to the front for the pseudo-bridge ( _“As you walk on by… will you call my name…”_ ) and the A class moves into a new triangle formation behind her, she raises her gaze upward and towards the booth. Even though she can’t see him through the lights…

**INT. SHOWDOWN FINALS VENUE - TECHNICIAN’S BOOTH - DAY**

The intent behind the moment is clear. She’s looking to Lucas, a secret message shared between the two of them. A small smile blooms on his face, and he reaches for a slider…

**INT. SHOWDOWN FINALS VENUE - AUDITORIUM - DAY**

And the spotlight on Riley brightens, just enough that she’d notice. Her smile widens, already dazzling in show business mode, and she launches into the choreography at the tail-end of her segment around about 1:40 with deeper enthusiasm than ever. Her classmates back her up, all of them moving in unison until they swap numbers again, Isadora taking over.

Then Chai jumps in, having a trio moment at the front with Darby and Sarah as they slide through their section of the mash-up. Then Jeff pipes up, doing an _AMBITION_ first as he raps on the next bit with Yogi backing him up. Farkle theatrically pushes between both of them to take his solo (the Rebel Wilson one, though he sings it a lot less… oddly than she does), seemingly back in shape diva wise at least for this one slice of performance. He and Isadora pass the vocal runs back and forth, spinning around each other and half-dancing together, backing away from each other as the build to the final act comes to fruition.

Then Maya’s vocals pull out all the stops, up on the steps while Riley heads the front of the formation below. Dylan and Asher are right behind her as right and left hand -- until Dylan breaks rank to really bring the house down, running into a front flip across the stage. He pops upright, winks at the audience, then cartwheels and back handsprings the other way, before returning to his place for the last hurrah.

The audience is fully enthralled, on their feet and clapping along. Eric, Jack, and Harper can’t hold back their grins, pride shining in their eyes. Even Shawn seems genuinely impressed -- Angela wipes tears from her eyes. In the back, Charlie and Zay are basically dancing along as much as they can, cheering and clapping and both looking happier than they have in weeks.

And with that, there’s nothing to do but bring it on home. The A class delivers the final segment with everything they’ve got -- well-trained harmonies, dynamite energy, and their signature charm of lovable underdogs with nothing to lose.

With the last couple of lines they break formation and return back to the places they started at the very beginning of the setlist, stomping in unison and hitting their final marks. Then they spin and drop their heads down as the stage lights go out, back where they started. As if they could wind up and do it all over again, just as spectacularly, in a New York minute. Like it’s easy.

But it’s not. We know how hard it is -- we know how hard they worked. And they did it. Somehow, regardless of what happens next, they did it.

* * *

The curtain lowers, nearly the whole house on their feet to give them thunderous applause.

**INT. SHOWDOWN FINALS VENUE - DRESSING ROOM - DAY**

The A class is celebrating and destressing in the dressing room, all buzzing with post-performance hype and the rush of a great show. Farkle and Maya stand together and hug each other tight, the latter clinging to him like an emotional support beanpole.

> **Farkle:** Doesn’t matter now, does it? All that matters is we did a good job and had fun, right? Or whatever people say.
> 
> **Maya:** Screw that. If we don’t win, I’m burning this motherfucker down.

Zay and Charlie poke their heads in, earning uproarious reactions from all of them. Haley and Clarissa immediately rush to tackle Charlie with hugs, while Zay is swarmed with cheers and praise for his choreography. It all turned out fantastic!

> **Yindra:** Not that there was ever any doubt.

Charlie finds a moment to get a word in, stating that he needs to go congratulate Haverford and check in with them, but he wanted to be able to tell them all the same. They were spectacular, and it was so awesome to get to see it. They all thank him, and there's this clear sense in the air that he should’ve been there with him. He belonged up there with them.

But alas. Charlie makes his exit just as the techies return, and he gives them compliments as well as they pass. Jade is also quickly laden with praise -- her costumes were perfect and definitely stole the show. Nate and Dave ambush Dylan, Asher, and Jeff, pulling them into a giant glom hug and losing their shit about how epic they were. Like, _Jeff_! Your _dancing_! And Asher, your _Spanish_!

> **Nate:** I didn’t even realize you were part Latino.  
> 
> 
> **Asher:** … wait, seriously?
> 
> **Dave:** _[ shaking Dylan’s shoulders happily ]_ And when you did the flip! And the backward flip!

Isadora watches them fondly, shaking her head, only looking away when she’s tapped on the shoulder. Chai is there, offering her a timid congratulations. They did it! And she did an amazing job with her solos.

Well, with all the extra hours she put in for her dancing… in a sudden move, Isadora reaches out and pulls Chai into a hug. Brief, but more than she allows or gives most people. It’s interesting, actually, how Chai manages to get her to do most things without thinking. Like a brashness she just brings out in her, or something.

But Chai doesn’t seem at all opposed. She’s surprised only for a moment, then she lightly returns the embrace, trying not to push it too far. When they pull away, Isadora’s touch lingers a bit longer than usual, like she isn’t sure what to do with her hands all the sudden.

> **Isadora:** I couldn’t have joined and caught up without you, so. If I contribute at all to a victory, then it’s your contribution too.
> 
> **Chai:** In that case, I think we can call it a draw. [ off her confused look ] Without your friendship I wouldn’t have adjusted to coming back very well, or probably even thought to consider telling the A class about… you know, before it was almost forced out of me. And who knows where I’d be if all that were the case… anyway, I’m grateful. Funny how the most unexpected people change your life, huh?
> 
> **Isadora:** Yeah… it actually is.

Chai smiles, Isadora tentatively mirroring it.

Speaking of people who unexpectedly change everything… Lucas makes his way over to Riley, the latter brightening instantly when she sees him. She gives him a tight hug, and he lifts her off her feet momentarily before they break apart.

> **Riley:** We pulled it off.
> 
> **Lucas:** If we manage to cinch this, you realize it’s all because of you, right? That entire thing, that was all you.
> 
> **Riley, touched:** … it was a team effort. But I suppose it won’t really mean much until we know.

Which could be any minute now… Riley touches his arm, getting his attention again.

> **Riley:** I just want you to know I’m proud of you. No matter what happens with showdown.
> 
> **Lucas:** Again, it didn’t have much to do with me --
> 
> **Riley:** I’m not just talking about today. I’m talking about how you ran for president in spite of the odds, your initiative to make real change, how dedicated you are to putting them in motion. At Adams, but on your own. I know how far-off college and stuff felt to you during the summer, and now you’ve got submitted applications and new goals and a whole new future ahead of you. Not even new, but -- you’re finally seeing it, that potential that has always been there. I know that’s not nothing. I know how hard that was. But you did it. And even though it’s all stuff I knew you were capable of, every day you continue to blow me away. _[ a beat ]_ It’s so good to see you starting to believe it too.

Wow. A lot to process, a lot of warm sentiment he wants to really take in and commit to memory forever. It’s difficult enough to process it, there’s no words in the world for him to respond with, so he settles for a smile and taking her hand instead. Lacing their fingers together, bonding them regardless of what might happen next.

Them against the world. Riley beams, squeezing his hand in return.

Perfect timing, too, because the time has come. A stagehand pops in and informs them it’s time for the announcement of the winners, beckoning them all onto stage. Yindra insists to Zay that he come with them for this -- he deserves to be up there just as much as they do.

Silence hangs over us as they head out…

**INT. SHOWDOWN FINALS VENUE - BACKSTAGE HALL - DAY**

The intrusive quiet follows as the A class makes their way through the backstage area, arriving back at the wings. All the anticipation of this final result building on our shoulders…

**INT. SHOWDOWN FINALS VENUE - AUDITORIUM - DAY**

The announcers are teeing up the big final reveal as the A class files out, Haverford populating the other side, but it’s all muffled and quiet around us. Brandon and Maya exchange a sharp glare. Yindra and Nigel each keep one of Zay’s arms around their shoulders, holding him steady as they take the stage. Lucas, Dave, Nate, and Jade hang back in the wings, Dave wrapping Jade in a hug from behind and propping his chin on her head.

Evelyn has joined us for the final reveal, the guest announcer who gets the distinct privilege as head of the school board to announce the victor. And what an honor it is! She gives a little speech about how it’s so clear both groups worked hard, put in the time and the effort, and have more than enough talent to spare. But alas, only _one_ can win.

> **Evelyn:** So let’s get to what you’re all waiting for -- the results. Without further ado, the winner of the _2020 Senior Showdown: Manhattan_ is…

It’s the most excruciating wait in the world. Zay clasps Riley’s shoulder from behind, squeezing tight. Haley links her arm tight with Clarissa’s and closes her eyes; Asher hides behind Dylan and tucks his head against his back, their hands clasped together. Maya reaches to take Farkle and Isadora’s hands, flanked on either side of her.

In the audience, Harper grips both Jack and Eric’s arms, all of them on the edge of their seats. Charlie is alone in the back but rapt with attention, hands clasped together in front of his mouth. He’s holding his breath, a prayer shining in his eyes -- but who he’s directing those wishes towards, it’s impossible to say…

And then in a moment, it’s done.

> **Evelyn:** Congratulations to the talented seniors of _Adams Academy for the Arts_!

The chaos is instantaneous. The audience erupts into cheer as the A class breaks free from their paralysis, bursting into joyful hysteria. The Adams faculty leap out of their seats with equal elation, relieved and overwhelmed with pride. Now Angela isn’t the only one crying -- Eric and Harper have joined her with their own tears. Charlie applauds wildly, shouting out a cheer.

But nothing can compare to the mood within the class. It’s impossible to describe. Dylan picks up Asher and spins him around. Riley whips around and rams into Zay to hug him, shaking with excitement. Nigel runs off stage and pulls Jade out to join them, grasping her hand the entire time, and Dave and Nate eagerly follow. Darby, Chai, and Sarah jump in a hug together, and Yogi does a victory yodel.

Farkle pulls Isadora and Maya to him in a bone-crushing hug, before releasing the latter to go accept the trophy for Adams from the announcers. She faux graciously accepts the trophy and then turns to have a good, old-fashioned “good game” handshake with Brandon. They appear pleasant enough to the audience, but their grip on each other is vice tight.

Then the humility is over, the Haverford boys retreat, and Maya holds up the trophy for them all to see. _VICTORY, BITCHES!_ They all swarm to center stage to meet her and it, dizzy with their change in fortune.

Except Riley. She heads in the opposite direction, marching into the wings straight for Lucas. She doesn’t hesitate the moment she reaches him, pulling him into a deep, enthusiastic kiss. Lucas returns it, too lost in the euphoria for a moment to be self-conscious, gripping her waist to keep her steady and pull her closer.

An undeniably beautiful moment -- save for the way Missy eyes it disdainfully from amidst the celebrating circle of her peers.

But even her potential jealousy can’t spoil the mood. They did it -- Adams Academy are the champions of senior showdown.

**EXT. SHOWDOWN FINALS VENUE - NIGHT**

Night has descended upon them over the course of the event, the driveway and streets around the venue bright with headlights as ride shares and drivers make their way home.

Charlie is standing in the cold evening air, hands stuffed in his pockets and breath creating steam in front of him. He perks up when he spots who he’s waiting for, Brandon emerging from the building and descending the steps. His expression is grim in the wake of Haverford’s loss, and it doesn’t bounce back to its usual crisp confidence quite so effortlessly when he finds Charlie at the bottom of the steps.

> **Brandon:** Charles. Don’t see any reason for you to be hanging around this late -- considering you weren’t a participant.
> 
> **Charlie:** Yeah, I know. I just wanted… I was hoping to catch you before you left. You weren’t in the room when I caught up with the boys before the results, so…

So. Brandon grants him a moment, standing opposite him and raising his eyebrows. _Go on._ Charlie clears his throat.

> **Charlie:** I wanted to say how great I thought you guys were. You killed the set. And “Sherry” was a great choice. I’m sorry I doubted it.
> 
> **Brandon:** Not good enough, apparently. But thank you.
> 
> **Charlie:** … it’s okay that you didn’t win. I hope you know that. Six years is a heavy burden to carry on your shoulders. At least now you’re free of it, right?
> 
> **Brandon:** I suppose that’s one way to look at ending a proud tradition every senior class before you has pulled off seamlessly. Though I can’t deny the A class gave an impressive showing. _[ a beat ]_ Interesting, how they completely reset their entire performance. It was nothing like what I’d heard about it.

Oop. For just an instant, Charlie panics, but he recovers quickly.

> **Charlie:** Yeah, well, Riley told me they just felt like they needed to switch things up. Get a fresh start, you know? Kind of like your thinking with “Sherry.” Safe doesn’t win showdown, right?
> 
> **Brandon:** _[ not buying it ]_ Sure.

Either way, Charlie thinks they did well, and they have nothing to be ashamed of for not winning. He’ll do his best to try and bolster spirits on Monday. A charming offer, one which Brandon merely nods to acknowledge. For now, at least in the immediate aftermath of stinging failure, the new kid warmth he displayed towards Charlie is long gone.

Still, he can’t relinquish having the last word. After Charlie bids him goodnight and starts down the sidewalk, Brandon suddenly calls after him.

> **Brandon:** Charles.

Charlie stops, turning to look at him again. Not sure what to expect -- a reprimand? The fabled dark side everyone keeps alluding to? Maybe a thank you for his kind words?

Brandon offers none of the above. He maintains his chilly demeanor but infuses it with his usual suave delivery, giving him another nod.

> **Brandon:** Enjoy the rest of your weekend.

To Charlie, this simply seems nice. A good sign if nothing else. He smiles, then continues on his journey home. But when Brandon spins back to face the street, his expression is _far_ from pleasant.

Perhaps he’s granting Charlie one last courtesy. He _should_ enjoy this weekend as much as he can -- afterwards, perhaps enjoyment may not be so easy to find.

**INT. AAA - ATRIUM - DAY**

Sunday morning, bright and early, the school is more populated than usual. A small group is present to watch HARLEY KEINER unlock the trophy case and load their new one into it, placing it front and center with the utmost care. Jack is there to supervise, while Lucas, Dylan, and Asher came to witness the moment for themselves.

> **Dylan:** Thanks for your service, sir.
> 
> **Harley:** Oh, no no, thank _you_. It’s been too many years since I got to update the display with this bad boy -- props to you folks for bringing him home.

And what a happy homecoming it is! Lucas steps forward to look for himself, the gleaming proof of his victory staring back at them. Representative of all the money about to come their way, to fund his initiative at least for a time.

He can’t help but grin, spinning back around to face the others. He loftily holds his arms out, sauntering forward and giving a cheeky bow. Then another, really milking the moment. Dylan and Asher break into theatrical applause, allowing him the silliness.

> **Lucas:** Thank you, thank you very much.

They meet him in the middle and both throw their arms around his shoulders, and Lucas doesn’t shy away from the contact. Dylan starts playfully singing the chorus “We Are the Champions,” Asher quickly harmonizing, and even Lucas joins in as they amble towards the doors.

> **Lucas/Dylan/Asher:** _No time for losers, cause we are the champions!_
> 
> **Dylan:** _OF THE WOOOOOOORLD --_

Jack watches them go, amused at their antics. Soaking in the moment of pride, of peace, in the school that despite its hell, he loves more than anything. He crosses his arms and meanders his way back to his office, humming the Queen song to himself as if it’s contagious.

**INT. BABINEAUX HOME - ZAY’S BEDROOM - DAY**

Despite it not being anywhere near the way he imagined it, Zay finally submits his application to Turner. And this time in facing it he’s not alone, Yindra and Nigel both plopped on the bed next to him and encouraging him to do it right up until the moment it’s official.

He thanks them for everything, acknowledging Nigel’s argument that he’s glad he didn’t miss showdown. Nigel agrees it’s definitely going to be something they remember for a long time, especially now with the sweet addition of victory.

> **Yindra:** Um, yeah, and how am I ever gonna forget your _big speech to Jade_? Like hello?
> 
> **Zay:** It was pretty ballsy. We might have to tell him about the contingency plan.
> 
> **Yindra:** Ooh… are we sure? Do we think he’s ready?
> 
> **Nigel:** What plan?
> 
> **Yindra:** We need a Michelle, Zay. Do we think he has what it takes to be a Michelle?
> 
> **Nigel:** To be a whomst?

Yindra and Zay exchange a conspiratorial look. Yindra claims this is their big plan for success, if their own solo endeavors don’t pan out.

> **Zay:** So. Destiny’s Child --

**INT. THERAPIST’S OFFICE - NIGHT**

Farkle is meeting with DR. MICHELLE HAN again after a week or so of avoiding her, in his usual spot on the couch. But this time he’s sitting upright, and he’s got company -- both STUART MINKUS and JENNIFER MINKUS are with him. Nervous but resolute, Farkle claims that he’s ready to discuss the bipolar diagnosis further, especially in figuring out where they go from here and what he can do to live with it.

Dr. Han is pleased, happy to oblige. She tells him she’s glad he came around to it on his own terms, then begins to discuss the nuances of the condition. Jennifer glances to Farkle next to her, placing her hand on his forearm and giving it a supportive squeeze.

**INT. YINDRA’S CHURCH - NIGHT**

Charlie enters a large church we recognize as Yindra’s, only much more empty on a weekday evening than Sunday morning. The lights are all on, and there are various people dotted around. The PASTOR, an elderly black man with a wise aura and mischievous gleam in his eyes, is talking pleasantly with two elderly ladies to the side.

They eye Charlie as he walks past them towards the rows of seats. He has a lightness about him that wasn’t there the last time we saw him in his own church, but there are still remnants of his usual anxious state.

He walks up to the stage that Yindra and the gospel choir performed on and stops in the forestage. There are three banners decorating the wall in front of him, in white, purple and blue, featuring the cross, ichthys, and a flame. A very different vibe from his usual Catholic church, but comforting all the same.

Once he’s free of the church ladies, the pastor approaches Charlie.

Pastor: Hello, young man. What brings you here at this time of night? 

> **Charlie:** Hi. Sorry if I’m intruding at all. _[ off his nod of reassurance ]_ I came here the other week with my friend Yindra -- Yindra Amino, in the choir?
> 
> **Pastor:** Ah, yes. I know the Aminos quite well. Yindra is a lovely girl.
> 
> **Charlie:** I’m Catholic, but it just seemed so happy and… cool here, so I… well, I have something I need to say to God, and I ended up here. I hope that’s okay. 
> 
> **Pastor:** Of course. We welcome everybody, always. _[ with a warm smile ]_ I’ll leave you and the big guy to it.

He gives him a fatherly pat on the shoulder, then leaves him be. Charlie takes a moment to collect his thoughts, looking up at the banners, and then kneels down. He takes his silver cross necklace out from under his clothes and holds onto the cross with one hand. 

> **Charlie:** God… _[ with a sigh ]_ It’s been a long semester. And a long summer. Kind of a long life, to be honest. And lately I’ve been having to do a lot of self-reflection. I keep finding myself in these moments where I have to… make a tough call. Or get to the right decision. Do the right thing. And every time I think to myself maybe you’d just give me the answer, that these choices could be simple, but I get that they aren’t. They aren’t supposed to be. It shouldn’t be that easy to define who you are — you need a test, sometimes, to prove it. And while I feel like I’ve had my fair share of that, I get why you couldn’t just show me the way. I had to find it for myself. I have to get there on my own. I can’t expect you to give me guidance if I’m not ready for it. But I’m getting there, now, and… and part of that is...

_Tell us who you are._

He takes a deep breath, and exhales.

> **Charlie:** I’m gay. _[ with a nervous chuckle ]_ But you already knew that, didn’t you? You’ve always known exactly who I am. It’s me who’s been playing catch up.

Charlie pauses, fiddling with the chain of his necklace. He’s not sure what he’s waiting for -- the lightning strike, maybe -- but nothing comes. Of course it doesn’t. He releases another breath, easier now, and continues.

> **Charlie:** I’m starting to understand who I am. And who you are, too. I’m beginning to trust my own decisions, and put who and what I value most above my own comfort or ease. There’s still a lot to figure out, I know, and I’m a long way from the person I’m meant to be… but I feel like I’m on the right path. _[ with more soft confidence ]_ I pray that you’ll be with me on that journey, and that you’ll continue to guide me. I’m sorry for blocking this part of me from you for so long. I’m going to try and be my authentic self as much as I can from now on — I’m starting to realize it’s not worth being anything else. _[ quietly ]_ Amen.

He stands up and takes a moment, then heads back towards the church’s entrance. He can’t help the corners of his mouth turning up; a weight has been lifted off his shoulders, but he’s trying not to disturb the peaceful atmosphere of the building.

The pastor catches him before he leaves, asking if he managed to tell God what he needed to. 

> **Charlie:** I did, thank you. 
> 
> **Pastor, tactfully:** Forgive me if it’s not my place to ask, but... is your church accepting of the LGBTQ+ community?

Charlie’s eyes go wide. 

> **Charlie:** How did you…? 
> 
> **Pastor:** Call it a natural instinct… my husband tells me it’s called ‘gaydar?’

Charlie processes this new information. Both of them almost want to laugh -- it’s just a little bit funny, a unique kind of levity, spotting another religious gay in the wild -- then he shakes his head to his question. 

> **Charlie:** I grew up in a pretty strict household and church. 
> 
> **Pastor:** Hm, I see. I’m aware of several Christian LGBTQ+ communities and churches in the city, if you’d be interested? 
> 
> **Charlie:** I don’t know if… actually, yeah. That’d be really nice, thank you. 
> 
> **Pastor:** I’ll put together a little list for you and tell Yindra to Snapchat it over to you. _[ off his dubious expression ]_ Or whatever you kids are using now. Don’t look at me like that, I’m old.

Charlie thanks him with a laugh, at ease and genuinely happy. The pastor bids him farewell as he heads to the double doors with stained glass windows, through which the lights outside shine through, creating a pastel prism of color on the hardwood floor.

**EXT. YINDRA’S CHURCH - NIGHT**

Charlie steps back out into the night, closing his eyes and inhaling the frigid air. A light rain has started to fall, the whole world seeming to shine around him. It’s refreshing, invigorating -- or maybe that’s just the freedom of what he just did. It might all be in his head, it might not, but what it means to him is the realest thing there is.

He releases the breath he’s been holding for years, a light smile blooming on his face.

* * *

**Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Party For One” as performed by Carly Rae Jepsen || Performed by Charlie Gardner**

There was no way we were going to get through the entire midseason finale _without_ Charlie performing. It wouldn’t be right. And he’s truly earned it this time, the uplifting percussion that kicks off the number almost heaven-sent.

He starts the vocals softly, breathing them out like his monumental exhale. Then he gets moving, hands still in his pockets, walking backwards along the sidewalk in step with the beat. His excitement builds through the verse and pre-chorus until he just can’t hold it in anymore. When the beat drops and the first chorus really hits, he breaks free, pulling his hands from his pockets and spinning into a dance.

He dances solo, unrestrained, continuing his journey as he goes. It’s energetic contemporary, skillful as always, and laced with that same frenetic melodrama that has defined his previous performances in his imagination. Only this time it’s joy -- pure, uninhibited joy -- that pumps that passion through his movements.

**EXT. NEW YORK STREETS - NIGHT**

Charlie carries on through the streets, loosening up as he goes. He unbuttons his coat, holds his arms out to soak in the rain. He runs his hands through his hair to brush the wetness from it, mussing it up in the process from the neatly combed way he’s been wearing it for weeks. Around him the city is a kaleidoscope, shimmering jewels in the night of reds, blues, purples, and gold.

**EXT. CENTRAL PARK - NIGHT**

By the second verse, he’s made it to Central Park, launching back into his fun and free choreography. He dances along benches, swings on lampposts like _Singin’ in the Rain_ , and gets mud on his pants from slipping and sliding in the grass.

A little messy, but he doesn’t care. Why should he care when he’s free?

**EXT. AAA - NIGHT**

By the time he reaches the final minute, he’s arrived at the steps of Adams, closed and empty for the night but still brightly lit and welcoming. Inviting, like the feeling of standing on your doorstep after a long journey home.

And this is where Charlie truly lets loose, the gleaming structure of AAA acting as the backdrop to his final expression of liberation. The dancing is really impressive now, spins and kicks and a couple of splits sprinkled in, but what’s most compelling about it is how much _feeling_ it conveys. It’s hard to recognize you haven’t seen someone be authentic until you actually do, and that’s how this performance feels. His coat abandoned on the steps, his hair wild and free, skin glowing with rainwater and finally back on his beat.

This is Charlie’s showcase moment. And finally, the only audience that matters is himself.

_I’ll just dance for myself, back on my beat!_

* * *

When he wraps the rendition he lowers himself down into a slippery recline on the steps, breathing heavy but so worth it. He leans back on his palms, tilting his head up to the rain, to the stars, to whatever lies beyond waiting for him. Then he smiles, easy and effortless, laughing a bit to himself as the weather soaks him clean.

**INT. HART APARTMENT - NIGHT**

Katy, Maya, and Isadora are sharing the remnants of a pizza at their new kitchen counter, taking a dinner break from unpacking and starting to arrange the space. Katy reminds her that she absolutely does not need to hang around and help, but Isadora claims she doesn’t mind. She likes it, actually, and it’s exciting to see what they do with the place. But she actually should get going tonight -- school day tomorrow, and Eric will be wondering where she is.

As she gathers her things to head out, Katy suggests they grab breakfast at the diner tomorrow morning before school to celebrate. Her treat, for old times sake. As flattered as Isadora is by that offer, she can’t. She has a meeting she can’t miss first thing in the morning, but rain check. She doesn’t want to pass that up.

Katy and Maya bid her farewell, then descend into excited giggles as they launch onto their couch. Katy comments on how wonderful the view is too from this new apartment -- miles above their old one, anyway. Maybe everything happens for a reason… but God, is it good to be back with her girl. Especially one who is now a _champion_.

Maya grins, hugging her again and cuddling close. She tells her she’s so glad she’s home, more than she could ever express.

**INT. MATTHEWS APARTMENT - MASTER BEDROOM - NIGHT**

Riley is on her bed, the room starting to look a bit different as Maya’s stuff disappears. She’s got her laptop open, application for Tisch NYU the last one she has left to submit. Only hours left to decide if she’s going to go for it or not, if pursuing the arts for real is something she even wants to try.

CORY MATTHEWS knocks on the door, making a witty comment about how now that Maya is gone, maybe it’s time to switch rooms back… Riley claims they may as well just wait until she goes to college, right? Not worth all that effort to do it now when she’ll just move again in six months… Cory gives her a look, but he can’t help but smile at the same time. Clever girl…

He makes a point of congratulating her again, making sure she knows how proud he is of her.

> **Cory:** Every day, I’m impressed with what a strong, mature, and clear leader you’ve become. I can’t wait to see all the amazing things you’re going to do next.

Riley smiles, touched. She climbs off her bed and swiftly rushes across the room to give him a quick hug and kiss on the cheek, thanking him, then darts back to her space before he can respond. He gives her another playful head shake, wishing her goodnight.

Once alone, it’s just her and the application. She hesitates for a moment longer, thinking on it… what does she have to lose?

Decisively, she hits submit. Putting the potential out there for good. No turning back now.

> **Riley, pre-lap:** I did it. I smashed that submit button. It’s out there now.

**INT. CHUBBIES - NIGHT**

Riley and Zay are meeting at Chubbies for late weekend celebratory fries, even more necessary now with her brand new update. Zay congratulates her and expresses confidence that she’s got as good a chance of getting into Tisch as any of them -- and yes, that includes Maya. He raises his water glass to cheers their future endeavors, Riley matching it enthusiastically.

The mood is somewhat disrupted when Charlie walks through the door, spotting them in their usual booth. This time, though, the sight doesn’t immediately make him think of retreat -- in fact, it seems like exactly what he was hoping for.

He quickly approaches their table, greeting both of them. Riley is surprised by his presence but not at all opposed… although his appearance is a bit questionable. Has he just been standing around in the rain? His hair is a windswept, slick mess, but there’s no mud on his clothes, so at least that part of his freedom dance wasn’t quite so literal.

> **Riley:** Do you want to sit down? I know you like fries, so --
> 
> **Charlie:** _[ still a bit out of breath ]_ Actually, I was hoping to catch a second with Zay. _[ glancing at him ]_ If that’s okay?

Unexpected, certainly. Riley looks to Zay as well, gauging his reaction, trying to determine if she should stay or go. Zay eyes Charlie curiously, uncertain though far less apprehensive than in the recent past… then nods. He signals to Riley it’s okay, and she gets up to give them privacy without complaint. Charlie thanks her, touching her arm and congratulating her once again, before sliding into her vacated spot across from Zay.

For a moment, it’s hard to speak. No matter how much either of them want to, how often they think about it when they’re not around, the moment they’re in front of each other again it’s like everything stops. Like they’re frozen in time, still cold in the aftermath of a mistaken first time. A choked surrender in the costume loft. A blindsiding separation without a proper goodbye.

But time keeps going. They get older, they learn, they grow -- and there’s no doubt that both of them have done a painful amount of growing in the last few months. The only question now is if they can catch up to each other and find common ground; if they can find a new way forward as they are now, or if they even should.

And to do that, they have to speak. Zay clears his throat, eyeing his rain-soaked attire.

> **Zay:** So, did you forget your umbrella, or were you just wandering around in the rain again --
> 
> **Charlie:** I don’t want to do this anymore.

Oh. Well, that can sure mean a lot of things, Charlie. Zay goes silent, watching him warily to see where this is going to go. He’s not even sure himself, really, what he wants to hear. Thankfully, Charlie didn’t seem intent on stopping it there, letting out a sigh and composing his thoughts before elaborating.

> **Charlie:** I just mean… being a million miles apart. Existing like we’re in different worlds. Maybe when all this started we -- I -- needed that. To feel like I was doing what I set out to do, to become independent and figure all my stuff out on my own without bringing you down with me. Because that’s why I did it. I know you already know that, but it took me some time to stop convincing myself otherwise. _[ a beat, looking down at his hands ]_ At first, I really thought I was doing the right thing. The thing that was best for everyone, that would allow me to fix everything. But I wasn’t really fixing anything. I think I was just doing what I always do. Running.

Zay listens patiently, not betraying anything. Letting Charlie have the time to work through it, to say what he needs to say. Charlie meets his eyes.

> **Charlie:** And I know I screwed everything up, making those choices without you. _[ shaky ]_ I know I hurt you, and… _[ fiercely ]_ and I _hate_ that I did. I hope you’ll believe that the last thing I ever, _ever_ wanted to do was hurt you.

Zay’s calm demeanor cracks slightly, betraying that exact hurt flaring up again. But it doesn’t hurt the same way anymore. It’s healed over, a dull ache that with the right treatment and a little more time will recover.

Charlie dips his head down, doing his best to keep it together and not do something unhelpful like cry. He clears his throat, taking another deep breath and finding his resolve. He meets his eyes again, not letting himself run anymore.

> **Charlie:** But I did. I did, and I’m sorry. Sincerely, from the bottom of my heart. I made some serious mistakes, and I know I’m going to have to live with them forever. You and I... we’re always going to carry that with us. We’re always going to have this history, the good and the bad. It’s never going to just go back to how it was before.

True enough. Zay nods, acknowledging it. Then, would they really want it to? Would they want to trade it all away for a fresh start, if it meant taking the good moments too?

> **Charlie:** Even still… I wouldn’t change it. Because I can’t imagine what life would be like -- what I would be like -- if none of it ever happened. And no matter what’s changed since, the mistakes I’ve made… a million years ago, before all this started, I told you that I couldn’t lose you. That you were too important to lose. Now I know I was right. [ with a weak smile ] I don’t want to keep doing this, stumbling through life without you.

It’s getting harder and harder to remain neutral. Zay sniffs, swiping at his lips and trying to maintain his composure. Charlie isn’t looking away now, taking him in as much as he can while he makes his appeal.

> **Charlie:** And maybe it’s selfish, which is exactly what caused all this in this first place, but I don’t care. If there’s one thing I’ll allow myself a little selfishness for, it’s this. That’s my new choice. You were one of my best friends, and you’re one of my favorite people. _[ a beat ]_ And I totally get if this isn’t enough, or if it’s too much, and you’d just rather not. But is there any chance we can just… try? Try to find our rhythm again, be friends again? _[ delicate ]_ Because I know the world needs you, but I really miss Zay Babineaux.

If Charlie uncharacteristically had a lot to say, then it only makes sense for Zay to have nothing. He’s speechless, absorbing everything Charlie said and trying to keep his emotions in check while grappling with that same question he’s been struggling with for weeks. If things aren’t completely broken, if they can be even remotely repaired, then is it worth the risk of letting him back in so they can fix it? Is that something he wants? Does it even feel possible, considering all their history and how frozen they’ve felt before?

But all of that was daunting when Charlie remained a question mark, when his feelings and opinions were kept behind that protective shell he works hard to maintain. Now, now that he’s said it and put himself out there, there’s no more guessing what Charlie wants. And when he knows where Charlie stands on it, on them, his decision is suddenly easy.

> **Zay:** I could be down for trying. _[ unable to hold back a small smile ]_ I’d really like that. Believe it or not, I missed Charlie Gardner.

The relieved smile that consumes Charlie’s features is instant, a laugh escaping him. Not because anything is funny, but because he can finally breathe again. The world has thawed around them, allowing time to resume and for both of them to move forward.

And what that means for them, well, only time will tell.

Riley slowly creeps her way back towards the booth, apologizing for interrupting but claiming she’s starving and absolutely needs to eat a fry or she’ll collapse. Charlie and Zay crack up, gesturing for her to rejoin them officially. She beams, feeding off their infectious energy that only freedom can conjure, and slides back into the booth next to Zay.

Charlie brings up an epic moment from their showdown performance and they quickly launch into excited chatter, the rapport between the three of them finally at ease. The way it was always meant to be -- hopefully, the way it will be forever more.

**INT. AAA - JACK’S OFFICE - DAY**

Isadora arrives at school bright and early, having come in with Eric rather than her classmates for a change. She knocks on Jack’s office door and enters as soon as she hears the beginnings of a response. Patience may not be her strong suit.

Jack is already busy with work, but sets his focus entirely on Isadora when she sits down across from him. Her face is set, that classic De La Cruz fierceness and determination clear. 

> **Jack:** Eric mentioned you wanted to see me. How can I help you, Miss De La Cruz? 
> 
> **Isadora:** I’m here to discuss the possibility of setting up a scholarship fund in my mother’s name.

Jack’s eyebrows raise in surprise. Whatever he was expecting, it wasn’t that. Before he can respond to the proposition, Isadora continues.

> **Isadora:** As you’re aware, I have inherited a large sum of money from my mother upon her passing. 
> 
> **Jack, gently:** Isadora, you don’t need to be so formal with me. This isn’t a business meeting.

Isadora sighs in relief, allowing her posture to relax. 

> **Isadora:** I’ve been struggling with what to do with my mom’s money for a while now, and I realized when I was helping Katy and Maya move into their new apartment that I should use it in a way that Valerie would support. _[ waiting for Jack to nod in acknowledgement before continuing ]_ My mom loved this school, how it fosters the next round of talent. She often dropped hints to me that she’d like to be a guest teacher more regularly -- 
> 
> **Jack:** _[ caught off guard ]_ Did she? She never mentioned anything to me or Eric… 
> 
> **Isadora, fondly:** It was part of her plan for moving to New York. But my point is, a scholarship fund is exactly what Valerie would want her money to go towards. Helping bring up the round of superstars, particularly ones like Maya who can’t necessarily access it on their own. That’s how she started out too, you know, not coming from much. She made her own luck, but I don’t think she’d even blink if she had the chance to help someone else achieve those same dreams without half the struggle. It feels right. Plus, it’ll help keep Lucas and Maya’s new legislation intact without having to rely on winning showdown every single year. Haverford are… _tough_ competition.

That’s one way to describe them. Jack nods as he thinks it over, keen on the idea. He can’t see any reason why it can’t happen. 

> **Jack:** Sounds like an excellent idea to me. I’m sure Lucas and Maya will be pleased too. _[ a beat ]_ Well done for coming to such a wise decision on your own. Valerie _would_ be proud of you, I’m sure. And so am I.

Isadora is touched by the sentiments, and gets up from her chair to hurry around to his side of the desk. She gives him a quick hug, taking him by surprise. 

> **Isadora:** Thank you. For always being there for me. You and Eric mean a lot to me. _[ a beat ]_ Well, um… bye. I guess.

She offers him an awkward wave as she walks back around his desk and towards the door. Jack is still frozen in surprise from Isadora’s hug and gratitude, knowing full well how much that means. He smiles at her, happy that she seems to trust him.

Jack’s uplifted mood doesn’t last long though. Yancy appears in the doorway just as Isadora is leaving, the two of them nearly bumping into each other. He shoots a subtle glare at her, but she doesn’t back down easily, so she glares right back at him until she passes.

> **Yancy:** Quite the attitude on that one. Seems that might be a trend here at Adams.
> 
> **Jack:** Looks can be deceiving. Isadora just helped arrange for a fund to support the new scholarships in full, for many, many years. _[ pointedly ]_ If humanity has any hope, I believe it’s in the youth. They certainly demonstrate much greater compassion than I’ve observed lately.
> 
> **Yancy:** Oh, then I suppose we both have good news, then.

Yancy clasps his hands together, looking all too pleased to be delivering this news. Jack braces himself for the worst.

> **Yancy:** I submitted my report last week, and the board has reached their verdict. Effective January 1st, the role of principal will officially be open to apply for at Adams Academy for the Arts. I myself am planning to submit for consideration -- I think I could do more here than the school board at this point, considering the _disastrous_ status of the school at present.

Jack’s heart sinks. He’s not being fired, but it’s al\most worse this way, dangling it in front of his face and making him do tricks like a show pony to prove he deserves to keep the position. He’s out of words, clenching his jaw and choosing not to give Yancy the satisfaction of a response. But he hardly needs one -- Yancy’s smugness is detectable from a mile away.

> **Yancy:** You are, of course, welcome to reapply to keep your position, Jackson. In fact, I encourage it -- the board deserves the opportunity to reject you outright. _[ a beat ]_ Until then, I suggest you start considering alternatives. You may very well be saying goodbye to Adams with your precious senior A class by the time this school year concludes.

With that, there’s nothing left to say. Yancy spins and leaves Jack to grapple with this info bomb on his own, at least giving him the dignity of reacting on his own.

Jack gets to his feet, closing the door behind Yancy. Then he finds himself slowly leaning against it, like all the energy has been zapped right out of him. His jaw twitches, eyes glossing over, like everything he’s been balancing and building up barricades against for years is about to break through and totally overrun him…

But he takes a deep breath, steels himself, and releases it with a sigh. Right now, there’s work to be done. Things to see through. And when the time comes to face the prospects, well, he’ll deal with it then.

Straightening up and clearing his throat, Jack moves back to his desk and settles in his chair. Back to work, doing what needs to be done as principal.

**INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY**

The A class is gathered for their first class since the weekend, all still chatty and buzzy with excitement from their victory. They’re up on the stage, chatting in small clusters about their performance and complimenting one another on their finest moments. Dylan and Asher in particular are huddled with Jade, gossiping about what happened with Nigel and what she thinks their first date is going to be.

But they snap back to attention when Harper and Shawn enter, the former enthusiastically taking the stage and greeting them as the Manhattan Showdown champs. This earns a loud cheer, Harper offering her own applause and letting them soak up the pride. Then she goes on to explain just how proud of them she is, how inspired she is by what they pulled off, and how remarkably moving it was to watch them come together to create something irrefutably _them_.

> **Harper:** As you all surely remember, I was a bit out of my element when I came here last year. I thought I knew Triple A, but you all were another brand entirely. And you didn’t make easy on me -- or yourselves -- so I always wondered how you’d manage to pull this off. Now I realize it was silly of me to doubt. You, the senior A class, are full of unexpected surprises -- and I think that might just be your greatest strength.

Hear, hear! As for assignments this week, it’s the last week before winter break, so Harper admits she doesn’t really know what they should do either. After such a crazy few weeks, she feels like they’ve been tested enough.

As it turns out, maybe no reason is exactly the thing they need to perform right now. Riley says as much, sharing her thinking that while the rush of the last few weeks have been exciting, it’s been a minute since any of them just got to sing for the _joy_ of it. Which is a shame, a travesty, considering that’s why all of them are at this school, in this place, together. Love of the art.

So that’s what they do. For the first time in months, the A class breaks into song because they want to. Because they can. Because it unites all of them, even when there’s no pressure or thing to fight for.

* * *

**Song Cue ♫ ♪ “To Noise Making (Sing)” as performed by Hozier || Performed by AAA Seniors**

Riley kicks us off, singing happily to her classmates as she stands at the center of the stage. She makes her way around and shares a little moment with all of them, gradually pulling all of them into the harmonies, until she’s got the collective singing along. From there, her classmates step up to share focus, Zay, Maya, Isadora, Chai, and Yindra just a few of the notable ones to take a solo for a couple lines. Farkle takes the bridge, accepting an affectionate side hug from Riley as he does.

Harper and Shawn watch from the back of the front center section, swaying and grooving along. Eric has come to join them, but he can tell something is missing. He glances over his shoulder towards the doors, looking for Jack, but he’s nowhere to be found.

Then the A class comes together, all making their way into a closer formation at center stage. Nigel takes Jade’s hand and pulls her gently into the group, twirling her under his arm. Riley makes sure Lucas gets included in the throng, though this time he hardly seems reluctant, throwing his arm around her shoulders. He’s not singing, mind you, but here’s there in the moment with the rest of them.

And that’s where we leave them as we close out this half-season. The united A class, exhausted but still going strong, vindicated victors, brimming with unbelievable potential for the future.

Can’t wait to see what happens next.

**_END OF EPISODE._ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, amazing AMBITION readers and warriors! I hope you had an awesome time with the midseason finale and the first half of S3 as a whole -- it remains unbelievably special to me, Esther, and the entire AAA team that so many people have connected with and care about this story and these characters to continue on this journey.
> 
> In terms of scheduling, Es and I agreed that it would be best to pace ourselves with the next batch of episodes, so for 309 -312, episodes will air every two weeks. So we'll be back with 309, "Nature of the Beast," on March 19! In the meantime, though, be sure to check back here next Friday as we'll be releasing the synopses for the next batch of episodes.
> 
> As always, remember that you can come gab with us about the show any time at our home base, **ambitionsource** , on Tumblr!
> 
> Have a lovely start to your month, and let's go AAA let's go!
> 
> \-- Maggie


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